


The Forgotten

by Brittle_Bone_Gabe



Category: Barry (TV 2018), IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Anxiety, Bending and Warping Canon, Betrayal, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Family Drama, Graphic Description, I run the show now bitch, Identity change, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Spoilers, Time to throw canon out the window, Violence, crossover AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-13 11:09:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21493321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brittle_Bone_Gabe/pseuds/Brittle_Bone_Gabe
Summary: *Abandoned*Barry Berkman couldn't remember much of his childhood; he knew he used to live in Derry, Maine, but that was about it, besides being taken by his "Uncle Fuches" at age 16 to move to Cleveland, Ohio. Eddie Kaspbrak moved from Derry, Maine to LA, becoming a police officer, surprisingly enough. Normally things were quiet for the most part, besides the occasional drug busts, but it's when someone named Barry Block enters his line of sight as a possible suspect for the recent string of murders he has to push the feeling of remembrance to investigate.
Relationships: Barry Berkman/Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 68
Kudos: 164





	1. Act One

It was a Monday afternoon when LAPD Officer, Eddie Kaspbrak, was sitting at his desk in the precinct, bored out of his mind. Yeah, he loved his job here in LA, it was certainly a different area than Derry, Maine, his hometown, but it grew on him quickly. The normal quiet life he had in Maine that he left when he was twenty-one-years-old was replaced with heavy traffic, an amount of homicides like you wouldn't believe, and for some reason your shoes were always sticky the moment you step out of your house. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss his friends back at home, the Losers Club. It had been years since they’ve seen each other, either everyone was too busy or Eddie couldn’t get ahold of anyone, so it wasn’t like he wasn’t trying. Well, the five that were left, nobody had any idea what happened to Richie; one day he just… disappeared without saying anything. Maybe that was the true reason Eddie wanted to be a cop; he wanted to help people, he wanted to help find people who were missing, and he was damn good at his job. 

Eddie jumped in surprise out of his thoughts when the phone on his desk started to ring. Normally that phone didn’t go off unless there was an emergency, or someone wasn’t available… or if nobody wanted to work in general. A sudden burst of anxiety plunged its way into Eddie’s chest as he reached out to grab the phone. Normally he didn’t have any issues answering the phone, but  _ this phone  _ was scary for obvious reasons. 

“LAPD, this is Kaspbrak,” he answered, fidgeting with the pen that was sitting on his desk. He called it his  _ fidget pen  _ because he didn’t actually use it to write anything. Detective Mae had given it to him so he would stop drumming on the desk with his fingers when he became anxious. 

_ “Officer Kaspbrak, there were reports of gunshots at 9913 Cambridge rd. There are no available officers at the moment, are you able to check it out?”  _ Dispatch had asked him. 

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Is it that there  _ aren’t  _ any available officers, or they  _ don’t want to do it?”  _ He finally asked. 

There was a silence on the other end of the line.  _ “Okay, but hear them out.”  _ Eddie snorted.  _ “So you know how the reptile show is in town?” _

“I got it, I got it, I got it,” Eddie said quickly, “I’ll go check it out.” 

When Eddie hung up the phone he looked at the blurry picture from the lipstick cam that Detective Janice Moss clung to as if her life depended on it. Eddie had tacked it next to his computer at his cubicle, he always used it as a reference point whenever there were reports of gunshot or murder since  _ he knew  _ that this guy is still out there somewhere going on a killing spree. It wasn’t fair the woman who trained him, making him a better officer and pushing him out of his shell, was murdered for what seemed like no reason. Eddie felt as though he owed it to Janice to catch this bastard; then the case would finally be put to rest and hopefully the other shit going on around here would stop. He would be a liar if he said he didn’t try everything he could to try to enhance the image to at least make out the face, or at least some of the features.

God, first they lost Janice then they lost Detective John Loach, which, in all fairness, was something about him and the guy that stole his wife? Eddie still wasn’t sure on those details, something about them being in a supermarket and the two men ended up killing each other. He knew that Loach had been torn up over his wife, since Eddie was the one who had to sit through all the many boring stories about how he bought a… what was it? A Quinceañera shop for his wife? Even after that she left him for another man and divorced him. It was a wild ride of a story, and in all honesty Eddie couldn’t keep up with the details of it all. He just remembered a few days before Loach got killed he was very secretive, jumpy, and acting out of it more than usual; so it had to have been a planned thing, right? Well, at least they knew what happened to Loach, they still had no clue where Janice was or what happened. 

Eddie got on his old Dell computer, printing out a copy of the lipstick cam picture, he didn’t like taking the one he had pinned up as that was Janice’s personal copy and he felt as though that was the only thing he had left of her. Yeah, he understood there was no fuckin’ face on the damn thing, but he did remember Janice telling him that he would reconize the person in the picture if they were standing in front of him. Eddie slapped the printer after his computer gave him an error saying  _ Printer Not Found.  _ Which was bullshit… Eddie was looking right at the printer! It was right there! He was grumbling to himself as he made sure all the cords were plugged in properly before trying again, finally printing… slowly…. 

He rubbed his face, hunched over his desk while waiting for the picture to print while mumbling to himself, obviously lost in thought. Mumbling about how he was going to catch this son of a bitch, that he would get the info of where Janice was at (hopefully still alive), and that this whole thing would finally be over. Eddie was telling himself this, but he noted how unconfident he sounded, which made him sigh heavily. 

“What’cha doin’?” Detective Mae asked loudly when standing outside Eddie’s cubicle. 

Eddie jumped, whipping around to see the brown haired woman looking at him with a smile on her face. She  _ always  _ did that. Whenever he was thinking aloud or trying to get something done,  _ she was always there.  _ It was almost on cue. Every. Single. Time. 

“Oh, I’m…” Eddie trailed off, picking up the picture from his printer, “on my way to investigate some reported gunshots.” 

“Mhm...” Detective Mae trailed off, taking the picture from Eddie’s hands, “Kaspbrak, why do you  _ always  _ think this guy is involved?” She asked, holding the picture up to him. 

Eddie bit his lip, thinking of a good answer. Because he didn’t want to let this go? Because he wanted to find out what happened to Janice? Because he wanted to make sure that nobody else gets hurt because of this asshole? 

“I just think he’s involved,” Eddie finally answered, avoiding eye contact as he took the picture back from the detective. 

“The case has been closed, Kaspbrak. You know that, right?” 

“Wrongfully closed,” he snapped on accident, looking up at Detective Mae who looked confused at his sudden aggressiveness. Totally out of character for Eddie. “I’m sorry, I… I gotta go.” 

He tried squeezing past her, but she managed to grab his arm before he could get too far. 

“Do you need any help?” 

Eddie’s eyes went wide, avoiding eye contact with her. She  _ always  _ tried to make some kind of physical contact with him somehow. It always made him uncomfortable, something about… someone else touching him with their dirty hands made him sick. 

“Uh, no…” he said, rolling his arm so she’d let go, “no, I think I got this under control.” 

He finally moved past her, going outside to where his police cruiser was sitting. He had inherited Janice’s old cruiser after his got destroyed in an accident. Eddie made sure that it was always in perfect condition; went through the car wash once a week, no trash, no scratches, no nothing. He remembered when he first joined the force, Janice made it a point to show off how her cruiser was the one in the best shape and she intended to keep it that way. 

Eddie missed his best friend. 

* * *

The sun blinded Barry Berkman for a good few seconds the moment he stepped outside the house he had just broken into via the sliding glass door. First accomplishment: he killed the guy he was ordered to by Fuches. Now… he had to figure out how the hell he was going to escape. The wired fence was way too high for Barry to climb, there weren’t any fencing around the sides of the house, but he didn’t want to risk that way since the guy fired a couple of rounds and the police were surely on their way now. 

There was blood all over the front of Barry’s black hoodie, thankfully none of it was his; he had his hood pulled up just in case. A small itch landed on Barry’s face, when he reached up to scratch it he could feel his fingertips were now wet; great, he had this assholes blood on his face too. Nice. Totally nice. 

Barry peered around the corner of the house, debating if he wanted to take the chance of trying to escape through the front of the house and cut through the neighbors yard. It could theoretically work as long as nobody saw him. Barry was hyping himself up to do exactly that… until a police cruiser pulled up to the scene with its lights flashing.  _ Well, fuck _ . Barry backed off a little, but still being able to see the police officer walk around behind his car, his pistol in his hands as he walked up to the front door of the house. 

Breathing heavily, Barry pressed his back against the house siding, not sure what to do now.  _ Were more officers coming? Were there more than that one officer in the police cruiser?  _ Now that the red, white, and blue lights were flashing it would surely attract some attention to what was happening. Letting out the breath he was holding, Barry took out the ski mask that he was holding in his hoodie pocket, putting it over his head before dropping the hood. 

When he turned back around to the sliding glass door, Barry noticed that there was a security camera pointed down at him, the red light blinking, indication that it was, in fact, recording. Fuck. He didn’t see that there earlier. Fuches didn’t tell him that this asshole had cameras around his house. Barry glanced inside the house, not seeing the police officer in his sights. Perfect. He pulled out his pistol with a suppressor, shooting it down. 

Barry’s heart started to pound against his chest, normally he wasn’t so anxious during these jobs, but he didn’t want to have to kill  _ another  _ cop. That just wasn’t his thing to do. They were just doing their jobs, like he was doing his. He took a deep breath as he silently opened the sliding door.  _ You will not kill another cop. You will not kill another cop. You will-  _ He kept thinking to himself over and over as he was crouched down, moving over to the wall in the kitchen that held the staircase, pressing his back up against it, making sure his breathing was steady. He peeked around the corner of the small wall he was hiding behind to see the cop, his arms were crossed holding his pistol in one hand with a flashlight in the other so he could navigate this dark house. 

“LAPD!” The officer had called throughout the house, causing Barry to worry that he may have seen him. 

The officer slowly backed out of the kitchen, not seeing anything and moved to the living room that was on the opposite side of the staircase. The footsteps that were once so heavy and close were now starting to slowly fade away, as the officer was checking every single corner of the living room. The only thing Kaspbrak could find were traces of blood and an obvious sign of a struggle. Although, he couldn’t find the body anywhere, he even checked the living rooms closet, where he would’ve assumed someone would put a body, but it was only filled with coats and shoes.

Taking a silent, yet deep breath, Barry moved out from his spot behind the wall. He was still crouched as he moved towards the front door, stopping every so often to listen for any footsteps. From what he could tell the officer was still in the living room and therefore should be free to escape without any hassle. Just in case, Barry peeked through the railing into the living room, the officer had his back to him as he was looking behind furniture now. Great, this was perfect. With the door still slightly opened still it would be easy for Barry to slip out.

The absolute second Barry was about to reach the door he accidentally stepped on an old, creaky floorboard. Barry’s eyes went wide as he whipped his head around to see the officer looking at him, his gun pointed at him. 

“Stand up! Put your hands up!” The officer yelled, walking over to Barry with the gun still pointed at him. 

Now seeing the officers face up close sent Barry into a slight state of confusion. Did he know him from somewhere? Maybe he just had one of those faces that looked familiar to everyone, but that reasoning didn’t set right with Barry. No, he’s seen him before, he just couldn’t place where. Barry glanced at the man's uniform, on the left side it was printed as:  _ E. Kaspbrak.  _

Barry slowly stood up, taller than the officer with his hands raised like he was told to do. 

“Take off the mask,” Officer Kaspbrak told him in a somewhat calm tone. 

“Look, man, this is a huge-”

“Take it off!” Officer Kaspbrak shouted, indicating that he was ready to shoot him. 

With a sigh, Barry began to reach up with his left hand, acting as if he was going to remove the ski mask, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Not while he was trying to turn his life around. Not while he knew that this was going to be the last ever job that he was going to do for Fuches. He had a life now, he had friends, he had a purpose. He wasn’t going to let it get ripped away from him so easily. 

While Officer Kaspbrak was distracted on seeing the mans face, he didn’t even notice Barry’s right hand going for the gun he still had on him. He quickly reached for it, even before Officer Kaspbrak could react, he pointed the gun down to the floor, shooting the officer in the foot. 

Eddie let out a scream, dropping his own gun before collapsing to the floor, holding his foot. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, man, I really am,” Barry kept apologizing, kicking Officer Kaspbrak’s gun across the room so he couldn’t shoot him while his back was turned. “I did it so I didn’t have to hurt you… worse… than that,” he added quickly, his hand on the doorknob. “Put… put some ice on that, you’ll be fine,” he said before leaving the house, closing the door behind him. 

Groaning, Eddie grabbed his radio. “It’s Officer Kaspbrak, I’ve been fuckin’ shot. Suspect is about 6-”

There was a sound of static on the other end of the radio before another man spoke.  _ “Uhh, Kaspbrak? Is this important because the guys and I are in the middle of holding a turtle at the reptile show-” _

“I got fuckin’ shot, you assholes!” 

He dropped the radio, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the blood coming from his foot fill his sock and shoe. It felt like the world was spinning at an unreasonable speed, causing Eddie to throw up from the shock of it all. It wasn’t long before he closed his eyes, passing out. 


	2. Missed Connection

Times like this made Barry kick himself for always parking his getaway car so far away from the scene he had created, but of course he couldn’t park it  _ right in front,  _ otherwise it would look suspicious or it’d be sabotaged. As he was walking down the street to get to the car he could hear police sirens in the distance, he took off his hoodie, wrapping it around his waist, his ski mask was already off by the time he exited the house. Barry watched as two police cruisers and an ambulance came speeding down the street towards the house, making sure that nobody was following him by the time he made it to his car. He sat in the old, beat up crappy car for a few minutes, trying to get his breathing under control so he could drive properly. Barry had no idea why he was trembling, he had no idea why his thoughts kept going back to that night when Janice found out who he was at Gene’s cabin, he had no idea why he didn’t just kill that cop, Officer Kaspbrak, and he had no fuckin’ idea  _ why  _ he looked so familar to Barry. 

Letting out a sigh, Barry finally started the car, making sure there weren’t any more service cars on their way before he made an illegal U-turn to get the hell out of the neighborhood. He pulled out to the main road, the traffic was already getting under his skin as he was trying to make his way back to the hotel that he and Fuches shared. Barry couldn’t help but constantly check all of his mirrors, making sure that nobody was following him there. That’s the last thing he needed right now. All Barry wanted was to get back to the hotel room, get all the blood off from his face, lay in bed and do nothing for the rest of the day. 

Barry was pulling and picking at the skin at his hands that were on the steering wheel, he was staring face forward out the windshield. It was a new habit he picked up on as normally when he was frustrated or angry he would smack himself in the face, punch something, anything to release his anger. Something to just calm himself when he couldn’t do those things, such as driving or in the middle of a conversation, he would pull his skin until he bled. Barry didn’t even realize he was doing that until Fuches asked him about it one day, so the habit just stuck around, and Barry didn’t have any reason to kick it.

“Should’ve killed him…” Barry mumbled, digging his finger nails deeper into his skin, pulling hard. He shook his head at what he just said. “No, no… you did good. You did good…” he continued, “you will never kill another fuckin’ cop.” 

He turned into the hotels parking lot, parking in his usual spot. Before getting out, Barry made sure that there were no suspicious cars sitting there waiting for him. There wasn’t a reason to be paranoid, the whole trip back he knew that nobody was following him, but since there was a cop involved with this mess he had to be 100% sure. Swallowing hard, Barry forced himself to get out of the car, locking it behind him as he made his way inside. 

Surprisingly, the whole way back up to his hotel room Barry had a blank mind. He couldn’t think of anything, he was blocking out all his emotions, he didn’t want to think. For some reason if he did his mind would keep hopping back over to Officer Kaspbrak; he knew that he only shot him in the foot, but now he was worried that he would end up losing it. Yeah, it wasn’t the same thing as dying, but it still made him worried.  _ This  _ is why Barry needed to keep his emotions off. He couldn’t keep thinking about stuff like this anymore. 

Letting out a sigh, Barry stood in front of his room door, pulling out his wallet so he could take out the keycard to get in. Yeah, he was ready to put that mess behind him. 

The moment he walked in he could see Fuches laying on the fold out couch mattress that was supposed to be Barry’s, his feet kicked up as he was playing Xbox on the large TV. Barry stood there for a moment, waiting to see if Fuches would even notice him there. As soon as he did, Barry was going to make sure that he knew this would be the last and final job he’d be doing for him. 

“ _ Starting now…”  _ Barry mumbled to himself, turning around to go take a shower to get the blood off of his face. 

“Did ya say somethin’?” Fuches called, his eyes still glued to the TV, not even noticing that Barry had left the room.

Barry turned the water all the way over to the hot side, he wanted the water to burn his skin. He was feeling guilty, almost as guilty as he felt for killing Janice. He wanted to burn the guilt away, burn the emotions away, he just wanted to disappear from all this. Scrubbing his face until it was raw, Barry wanted to make sure that there weren’t any traces of blood left. He stood with his back to the shower head, it felt like his skin was melting away, exposing only bones when he started to become numb. 

Turning back around, Barry threw his fist against the tile wall multiple times to get some of his anger out. Fuches had always drilled into him mind that he shouldn’t leave any witnesses. Well, he fucked that up today. It wasn’t like Officer Kaspbrak could actually see his face, but he had his voice and what his build looks like, so he could pick him out of the crowd. Not like it’ll be as easy to pick him out like it would’ve been if the officer had his face, but Barry didn’t like having that slim chance. 

Barry opened his eyes as soon as the hot water ran out, now freezing cold water fell over him. He scrambled to turn off the water, stepping, wrapping himself up in a warm towel. After drying off, Barry put on more comfortable clothes; sweat pants, and a black v-neck t-shirt. He moved the towel from around his neck and began drying his hair, looking at himself in the large bathroom mirror as he did. The only thing he could see was a monster, an evil person, someone who doesn’t even deserve to live anymore. It took everything that Barry had to not punch his reflection that stood in the mirror; he hated how he looked, hated what he did with his life, hated that he will probably never change his evil nature. He closed his eyes for a quick moment, but when he opened them again he saw blood covering his entire face, causing Barry to panic, his reached up to touch his face. Pulling back, he didn’t see any blood on his fingertips, so he looked at the mirror again… nothing was there now. 

Shaking his head, Barry left the bathroom, flipping the light switch off as he made his way back into the living room. Fuches was still lying on Barry’s bed, playing the game, looking like he didn’t even move. Fuches was playing some kinda shooting game, surprisingly good at it; well, not that surprising, as he probably spent the majority of his time and day on the damn game. 

Barry stepped in front of the TV to get to the other side of the bed, Fuches, of course, making a huge deal about him getting in his way. He let out a sigh, plopping himself down next to him. He folded his arms over his chest, his legs crossed over each other as he watched the game on the TV in silence. Barry kinda wished that Fuches would go away so he could lay in silence, alone with his thoughts.  _ That wasn’t going to happen.  _

“C’mon…. C’mon…” Fuches kept saying under his breath as he was pressing the buttons harder on the controller, as if that was going to make him any better at the game. Barry looked at him and that poor controller that was getting absolutely fucking destroyed by all the abuse it went through. “Fuck!” He yelled, tossing the controller in the space between him and Barry when the big, red, bold  _ GAME OVER  _ message flashed on the screen. “Fuck this game!” He yelled again, flipping off the TV as if that was going to make any difference. 

“When are you going to admit that you fucking suck at this game?” Barry asked, moving so his arms were resting behind his head. 

“Ha. Ha, ha. Very funny,” Fuches said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He grabbed the TV remote, turning it off. He looked over at Barry with a smile on his face. “Sooooo?” He said obnoxiously. 

Barry shrugged. “Sooo…?” He mimicked, not sure what he was going on about. 

“How’d it gooo?” 

Barry was silent for a moment, before rolling over on his spot on the bed, his back to Fuches. “Fine.” 

He  _ really  _ hoped that Fuches would take the hint and go away. That was that last job he was ever going to do for him, he told him so many times as a reminder, but would get the usual: “ _ uhhuh.”  _ Or:  _ “We’ll see.”  _ Which Barry absolutely hated. It  _ was  _ his last job, he swore it was. He was looking for places to move to, the cheapest places he could possibly find. Of course, he wouldn’t ever tell Fuches or even NoHo Hank for that matter. At least Hank could somewhat respect that Barry didn’t want this life anymore, but Barry also knew that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and would eventually tell Fuches where he moved to. 

“‘ _ Fine’?  _ That’s it?” Fuches said, lightly shaking Barry’s back for encouragement to keep talking. “C’mon, what aren’t you telling me?” 

“Nothing… it was… normal.” 

“Normal?” Barry nodded. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“I got the job done, isn’t that what matters?” 

“Listen, I know you’re not totally on the fence about this anymore, but, y’know, that guy was a monster.” 

Barry turned his head to look at Fuches. “Really?” He asked hopefully. 

“Yeah, he shorted on a drug deal,” Fuches scoffed, “a monster!” Barry narrowed his eyes, turning back over to his side. “Aw, c’mon, Barry. You did good!” He patted his shoulder. 

“That was my last job, Fuches,” Barry said firmly, making sure the man he considered an uncle remembered. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” he said, waving a hand

“A… cop showed up before I could leave,” Barry started to explain, rolling back over on his back. He couldn’t help it, he needed to get this off his chest. Even if he had to confide in Fuches. 

Barry was shocked when he heard Fuches laugh. He didn’t understand what was so funny about what he said, but okay… 

“What? You kill another cop?” He joked. Barry didn’t say anything, he stared up at the ceiling, not saying anything. Fuches panicked, grabbing Barry’s shoulders, shaking him. “ _ Did you kill another cop?!”  _ He whispered in a frantic tone of voice. 

“No!” Barry snapped, pushing Fuches’ hands away. “I didn’t ki-” Barry paused, lowering his voice, “ _ I didn’t kill another cop.”  _

Fuches let out a sigh of relief, letting out a chuckle. “Oh, thank god! You scared the shit outta me, kid.” Barry didn’t say anything, so Fuches felt obligated to figure out what was wrong. “Talk to me, what happened?”

Barry sighed, rubbing the back of his head, his hand now damp from his hair. “It’s not that a cop showed up. I kinda expected that since the asshole made a lot of noise, but…” Barry trailed off, trying to decide how he should word this, if he should even talk about this at all, but whatever, he had already started, “but, I… it felt like I knew him from somewhere, y’know?”

“Did he see you?” Barry nodded. “How’d you get away?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt him, Fuches.” He looked at the older man who was giving him the look that he should continue. “I shot him in the foot. I couldn’t hurt him.” 

“For fucks sake, Barry!” 

“What?! That’s better than killing him, right?”

“Did he see your face?”

“No.” 

“Oh, thank god,” he said again, “well, y’know, he’s a cop, Barry. You’ve probably just seen him around before,” he reassured him, patting his shoulder before getting off of the mattress.

Barry didn’t have the heart to say that it wasn’t just because he was a cop. Mainly it was Officer Kaspbrak’s eyes; something about them was specifically reaching out to Barry. Like he knew those set of eyes before, like they were long lost friends trying to reconnect again. Or… maybe Fuches was right… maybe it was nothing, just someone he’s seen in passing before.

“I’m gonna get food, want anything?” Fuches asked, snapping Barry out of his thoughts. 

Barry shook his head, holding up a hand. “No, I’m good.”

“You did good today, Barry!” Fuches added once more before stepping outside the room, closing the door behind him. 

Well, then why didn’t it feel like it? 

That’s when Barry’s curiosity got the better of him. He grabbed his laptop that he had shoved underneath his fold out bed. The moment he opened it, he saw that he still had the scene was working on was still pulled up from the night before. Instantly he closed it, heading over to Facebook, he had to know where he saw this officer before. He knew it wasn’t just some random coincidence meeting him if he “saw him randomly passing on the street” before. 

In the search bar at the top of the screen, Barry had clicked on it, watching the cursor blink over and over, waiting for input. Did he really want to look him up? Would he even be on Facebook?  _ Shit, how did you even spell his last name?  _ After trying over and over, it finally came back to Barry how to spell it. 

_ Kaspbrak.  _

To no surprise at all, there weren’t many people on Facebook with the last name of Kaspbrak. In fact, Barry was pretty sure that he found the officer at the top of the People page. 

_ Eddie Kaspbrak.  _

Yeah. That name definitely clicked something in Barry’s mind. 

Clicking on the profile, it was obvious that… Eddie… wasn’t on Facebook much. His profile picture hasn’t been updated since 2016, and it was him at his police academy graduation ceremony that took place in the year 2004 according to the banner in the pictures background. He didn’t have a lot of friends on there, looks like only close family, hardly any posts. What caught Barry’s attention was that Eddie was from Derry, Maine like he was. 

Barry was confused. Now he was 100% sure that he knew Eddie from somewhere. It had to be because he was apparently from Derry. Maybe they were friends from back then. However, Barry couldn’t say that for sure as he didn’t remember much of his childhood. 

Barry closed the browser before closing his laptop, shoving it back underneath his bed. He let out a sigh, that wasn’t too helpful, but it was something. 

_ Eddie… why did he know that name? _

* * *

The loud, repetitive beeping was annoying Eddie to the point where he woke up in a strange, uncomfortable bed. When he opened his eyes they burned from the bright white room, he obviously wasn’t expecting that. It wasn’t until he shifted in the bed was when he felt a sharp pain from his left foot up through his leg. He grunted as he grabbed his leg, what the fuck happened? 

Right… he was checking out a call on gunshots. Looking through the house he had thought everything was going fine, a clear sign of a struggle, but still nothing was in the living room. Then… then what happened? A creaky floorboard. A dark figure with a ski mask trying to leave the house. His leg had felt like it was on fire, his head slammed on the floor, then everything went black. 

Surgery. Eddie remembered that he went through surgery, but not before he had a shit ton of paperwork from the LAPD to fill out, he wasn’t sure exactly what he was signing since he was loopy from the drugs, but he knew it had to be about the injury. All he knew about that was he kept nodding as the chief of police kept talking to him, telling him exactly what he was signing, but truth be told Eddie wasn’t able to process anything he was saying so he just did it anyways. More than anything Eddie just wanted to get out of here, he needed to get back out there and figure out who the hell shot him and take them down.  _ Fuck, he needed pain killers.  _

He was about to press the nurse button that was on the remote sitting next to him on the bed, but a man in a white medical coat knocked on his opened door, allowing himself in.

“Officer Kaspbrak,” he said, walking up to the bed, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m…” Eddie trailed off, trying to keep himself awake, “I’m hurting.”

“Well, that’s normal. You went through some minor surgery. Nothing serious, there was no exit wound, so we just dug the bullet out and stitched you up.”

“Will I be able to walk again?” Eddie asked, looking up at the doctor. 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, you’re totally fine. We are, however, going to have to keep you overnight, just to make sure everything runs smoothly. Alright?” Eddie nodded. “I’ll have a nurse bring you some painkillers and antibiotics, I’ll check back on you later.” They shook hands before the doctor left the room to move onto the next patient. 

Eddie closed his eyes, his face scrunched up as he was trying to ignore the pain that now spread to his entire left side of his body. Well, that was something Eddie could mark off he knew for sure; being shot hurts. He remembered when he was about thirteen-years-old he broke his left arm and… someone moved it back into place. Yeah, that hurt, this pain almost matched that. Thankfully it was only his foot though, not anything important. Which… Eddie had no idea why  _ he  _ didn’t cause a fatal shot. He already killed some guy, why not kill a cop to make sure there weren’t any witnesses?

In fact, the guy who shot him just seemed… so familiar. Even though he was wearing a ski mask Eddie could still see his eyes which held something dear to him. Then his voice. Yeah, he knew that voice from somewhere. Fuck, this whole thing was so fucked up. Maybe he didn’t actually know him, but rather was just remembering the moment in the house when confronting the man. 

There was a soft knock at Eddie’s door, so he pried his eyes opened, looking over to hopefully see the nurse with his meds. No. It was Detective Mae.

“Hey, Kaspbrak,” she said with a small smile on her face, walking over to his bed, taking a seat at the chair that was next to him. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Like shit,” Eddie said through a groggy voice. 

“Well… I got some good news for you.”

Eddie’s eyes lit up. “Did you find the guy who shot me?” 

“Oh…” Mae rubbed the back of her neck, “no… but! We did manage to find a computer hooked up to some security cameras up in the attic of the house you were checking out. We haven’t looked through it yet, but that guys face has to be on the footage, right?”

“Hopefully…” 

“We’re gonna leave a copy of what we find at your desk when you come back. Um, when  _ are  _ you coming back?” 

“I get to leave tomorrow, so… tomorrow.”

Mae frowned. “Don’t push yourself, Kaspbrak. If you’re not feeling up for work-”

“I’ll be back tomorrow, Mae,” Eddie cut her off. 

“Okay…” She stood up, “I’m gonna rip the footage for you.” She awkwardly put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Eddie nodded to her, closing his eyes as he heard her footsteps fade out of the room. The moment his eyes shut it was like Eddie was back in the moment all over again. The eyes… the voice… everything about this was getting under his skin. Why couldn’t he just let this go? 

Eddie’s eyes shot open, realizing the man's height and build practically matched the figure in Janice’s picture. 

Holy shit… did he come face to face with that fuckin’ killer?

_ Yeah. Eddie had to find this guy again.  _


	3. Repeat Cut

The instant that Eddie was out of the hospital and had a days worth of rest at his apartment he decided that it was time to go back to work. The Chief of Police, Detective Mae, and everyone working at the precinct had urged him to stay home, take a week off of work that he would get paid for to get some rest, but of course he refused to take up on it. Eddie was pissed, no, in fact, he was  _ beyond  _ pissed off right now. He got injured on the job, the bastard who did it got away, and now people at work were trying to get him to stay home while the killer was still running around out there probably killing more and more people. Now there was no way he could rest. What if he would come after Eddie knowing that he was still alive? Well… thinking back on that, even though the memory was somewhat hazy, it didn’t seem like the killer wanted to hurt him at all, otherwise he would have shot him in the chest or the head… not in the goddamn foot. What was it he said?  _ Put some ice on it and you’ll be fine...?  _ This was all so fucked up. 

Eddie did call the responding officers who almost ditched him for the goddamn reptile show. Who knows what would’ve happened if they did that. Maybe he would’ve lost his foot. Honestly? Eddie was outraged about the entire situation. He was mad at himself for being so careless, he was mad at the guy for shooting him, he was mad about the responding officers who were just goofing around instead of helping him on the call. 

Well… what's done is done… the only thing he could do now was to move forward with the case he would most likely be taking on on his own. Which, if he had to then that was fine. Janice was working this same case basically on her own anyways; if she could attempt to do it then he would attempt to do the same.  _ Not like how Janice ended up was good,  _ but Eddie was going to attempt to be three steps ahead of whatever was going on here.

Eddie limped through the precinct, his hand on his left leg as he was making his way to his cubicle. He couldn’t wait to get his desk, even though it was a short walk from the employee parking lot to getting his desk, this was the furthest that Eddie had to walk in days. He was taken out to Detective Mae’s car via a wheelchair when was getting discharged from the hospital, and his apartment was small so he didn’t have to walk far for anything. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, trying to ignore them as he wobbled into his seat at his desk, thankfully the cubicle walls were blocking everyone else out. Letting out a sigh, Eddie pulled out the orange RX bottle out of his pocket, downing two painkillers to help the aches and pain running up his leg. 

Within the span of five minutes a couple of officers passed by Eddie’s cubicle, stopping to ask how he was doing. Every time he was asked, Eddie just gave a generic: “oh, I’m doing fine. Thanks.” Then he’ll turn back to whatever he was looking at at his desk. Which, right now, was nothing. He was staring at a blank piece of paper on his desk, trying to block out the pain in his foot and leg. Bouncing his leg, Eddie was hoping that would help, but nope, that was a stupid mistake and made the pain worse.

Letting out a sigh, Eddie raised his head, propping his elbow up on the desk, leaning his head against the palm of his hand. He glanced around, noticing the disc in a plastic sheet propped up on his computer. Oh right! That was from the security camera tapes at the house Eddie had been investigating. Thankfully someone recovered this for him so he could watch. 

Eddie pulled out the tangled up earbuds from his front pocket, untangling them as he took the disc out of the plastic, putting it in the optical drive. It was taking  _ forever  _ for the computer to read it, as it was an old Dell running Windows XP, that’s been outdated for years, but for some reason they won’t upgrade to Windows 10. That would probably take care of a lot of issues around here if they did, but whatever, right? The computer was making strange noises, trying to load it up, but it was obvious it was struggling. 

“C’mon, you piece of shit,” Eddie mumbled, bouncing his right leg from suddenly becoming extremely anxious. He could not wait to see what was on this tape, hopefully the guys face. Just…  _ something  _ to move this case forward. 

Finally the disc started to play, it had the date in the bottom right hand corner, two separate cameras were on the screen, the top screen was the backyard camera, the bottom screen was the front door camera. There had to be something up with the guy who had gotten murdered for having these cameras placed where they were. ...or maybe he was just worried about something else. The neighborhood that he lived in wasn’t a bad one, never, not once, had Eddie or any other officer been called in to check on something. Extremely quiet. 

Eddie’s eyes drifted to the front yard camera, a man, the same man that he met in the house was walking up to the front door. A hood over his head, lowered as he readied the pistol with a suppressor in his hands. He looked so close at the computer screen, trying to see the man's face but the camera angle wouldn’t change, no matter how Eddie would try to look at it. He watched as he tried the door handle first, black gloves covering his hands, but the door appeared to be locked. The man looked around away from the camera, assuming to make sure nobody was around to watch him when he began to kick the door in. He held the gun up in front of him as he entered the house, not once was his face shown. 

Eddie started tapping his fingers impatiently, watching both screens like a hawk waiting for something to change. He was itching for something else to happen, he thought about fast forwarding the footage, but he couldn’t risk missing anything. The whole ordeal must’ve lasted five minutes, as the backyard footage showed the man, with the hood still pulled up over his head, exiting the house via the sliding glass door. Still no clear shot of his face. Eddie cursed under his breath when he realized that. He had his back to the camera the whole time, peeking around the corner of the house, the front door camera showed that Eddie’s police cruiser was pulling into view. The man threw a ski mask on over his head, dropping his hood as he turned back around, looking up at the camera as he finally noticed it. He shot it down, a  _ No Service  _ message in white letters over a black screen popped up where the footage used to be.. 

From the front door camera, Eddie saw himself entering the house with his gun drawn. That’s all he had at the moment, as there was nothing else to see but the unmoving scene of the porch. Another five minutes passed and the man was leaving the house, he pulled off the ski mask as he did, blood was obviously on the front of his hoodie. Eddie paused the footage quickly, rapidly tapping the spacebar so it would play and pause. The man had turned his head slightly so the camera caught a brief side of his face and his hair; it was brown, short, and somewhat messy. 

Fuck. This wasn’t enough for Eddie to go off of, but he would make do. It would be a start in this case, right? He couldn’t help but rewind the footage from when the backyard camera was still intact, pulling out Janice’s picture. Eddie moved it so the footage was showing the man standing up, gun pointed at the camera then paused it. Yeah, comparing the still and the picture it was obviously the same man. It just had to be. 

Eddie stood up as quickly as he could, despite his foot screaming out in pain as he did with the unexpected weight being put on it. His face scrunched up in pain as he had to use his desk as support, holding the picture in his hand. When he opened his eyes again Detective Mae was standing there, watching him and was about to move in to help him stand up since it looked like he could’ve used it. He jumped again, she  _ always  _ made it a habit to walk up to him when he totally wasn’t expecting it, scaring him. 

“You okay, Kaspbrak?” Detective Mae asked him, putting a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Yeah, yeah…” he grunted as he put more weight on it to turn around to face her, “I’m fine. Hey, listen, maybe you could help me out with something.”

Detective Mae’s eyes lit up, a smile on her face. “Of course! What do you need?” 

“So… do we still have Janice’s notes from this?” He held out the picture to Mae. 

“Yeah… yeah I think so, in her old desk. Why? What’s up?” 

“I’m not letting this go, Mae,” Eddie said, putting all his weight on his right side, leaning against his cubicle wall, “I just  _ know  _ the guy who killed Janice shot me. I know it.”

“C’mon, Kaspbrak… we closed the case.” 

“I know, I know… but now I  _ have  _ another reason to open it back up!” 

Detective Mae shook her head slowly. “Don’t over work yourself, Kaspbrak. Especially now that you’re hurt.” 

“I won’t, I won’t, I promise,” he said quickly. 

She sighed, thinking about it. The case was over and knew she shouldn’t give in to Officer Kaspbrak’s request, he would just work himself into the ground, knowing him. On the other hand… they were all still torn up about Janice’s disappearance/murder, and if he thought the same guy was involved in shooting him then… why should she stand in the way of that? 

“Okay… c’mon.” She motioned Eddie to follow him, which he did but was having issues keeping up with Mae, who, when she realized, slowed down so they could walk together. 

They made their way over to Janice’s desk which was kept untouched… until now. Eddie noticed the picture she had tucked in between her computer screen and the casing around the monitor. It was a selfie of her and some older man that Eddie somewhat recognized, but couldn’t place from where. 

“What’s this picture?” Eddie asked, pointing at it. 

Mae looked up at the picture as she was crouched, going through her drawer. “Oh, that’s her and her boyfriend. Gene.”

“Gene who?” 

“Co… Cos… no. Gene Cousineau,” she finally managed to remember, standing up with a handful of pictures. “In fact, this is the acting class she was looking into about the case. Gene Cousineau teaches it.” She held out the pictures to him, which he took. Eddie opened his mouth to ask a question, but Mae knew exactly what he was going to say. “No, he’s innocent. He’s the one who called in and was pretty torn up about it.” 

“I mean…” Eddie started, going through all the pictures of the people in the acting class, “that doesn’t exactly mean he’s innocent,” he pointed out. 

“He’s innocent, Kaspbrak. Trust us.” He nodded. “Just be careful, okay?” 

“I will.” 

She moved to go about her business, leaving Eddie shuffling through the pictures. He stopped when he landed on Barry’s picture. Everyone else’s picture looked like they were posing for a headshot, while the guy named Barry looked confused and awkward. Did Eddie know him from somewhere? There was something about how he looked, well, his features anyway… The blue eyes- Wait… the blue eyes. They looked rather similar to the guy who shot him the other night.

Eddie moved to the conference room that nobody was currently using, he could feel everyone's eyes on him again. He moved the whiteboard on wheels out next to the conference desk, pinning up the photos. The scene looked all too familiar to the other officers, as they all remembered Janice doing the same thing the first time around. Eddie could hear some groans from behind him as he pinned Barry’s photo in the middle of it all. 

“What’s the problem?” Eddie asked the officers who had been groaning at this. 

“We thought the case was closed,” one of them said before taking a sip of his coffee. 

Eddie shook his head. “No, I’m opening it back up.” 

* * *

It was that time of the week again where Barry could finally escape his problems, getting into a zone with people he enjoyed and doing something he loved. His acting class. He’d been thinking about it for the past two days, he needed a distraction from the job the other night. For some reason Barry’s thoughts kept going back to Officer Eddie Kaspbrak, worried about him; his well being and worried about being found out for what he did. In fact, Barry was so worried about it that he hasn’t left the hotel for a whole day, paying Fuches to bring him some food, even though the older man told him to do it himself, so Barry had to add more money so he could buy himself something. 

Barry pulled into the parking lot of the theater in his old, crappy, beat up car. He couldn’t help but check all his car mirrors to make sure he hadn’t been followed. That was the last thing he wanted; to be arrested in the middle of his class, in the middle of Mr. Cousineau and in front of Sally. Yeah… Barry did feel like he was being followed at the moment, maybe it was just his paranoia. Had to be, right? Nobody would’ve been able to. 

He was pulling his thoughts together, trying to calm himself down.  _ Nobody is following you,  _ Barry told himself, pressing his head back to the headrest, letting out a deep sigh, closing his eyes.  _ Nobody knows what you did besides Fuches. Fuches wouldn’t tell anyone… right?  _

All the anxiety was leaving Barry’s chest, so he opened his eyes and looked out his windshield. Yeah… he was going to be oka- There was a sharp, loud couple of taps on his drivers side window. Barry’s eyes went wide as he turned to look, all the anxiety times five came storming back to him. Standing out there was Sally, who gave him a small wave. Barry let out a sigh of relief upon seeing her, her smile caused him to smile as he rolled down his window. 

“Everything okay, Barry?” She asked him, worried about him. 

He swallowed hard, nodding. “Oh, yeah…” he started, scratching the back of his head, “just a little anxious, that’s all.” 

Sally reached in the car, squeezing Barry’s arm that was resting in his lap. “Everything’s okay, Barry,” she said with another smile on her face, giving him some sense of comfort. “I’ll see you inside.” 

“You too,” he said quickly just as she turned around to head inside the theater. 

Barry craned his neck to look through the rearview mirror one more time before getting out of the car. His heart sank when he saw an unknown, black car turn onto the street, parking itself next to the theater. They turned their headlights off, nobody was getting out of the car. Yeah, that made Barry paranoid, why would someone just park there and not get out? Well… he had an  _ idea,  _ as it was something he’d do when he was out the lookout for a target. Barry waited a moment before getting out of his car, locking it quickly before making his way inside, making sure the person from the car couldn’t see his face as he shoved his hands in his old, dark brown hoodie pockets, his head down. 

The entire way inside and to his usual seat alone, Barry had bad vibes. The feelings of being followed were overwhelming him greatly that he couldn’t focus at all. He didn’t even notice that his classmate was trying to strike up a conversation with him until it was too late and they turned their attention away from him.  _ You’re just paranoid, that’s it, Berkman. You need to get yourself together. Calm the fuck down,  _ he thought to himself, letting out a long sigh, gripping his backpack straps that was sitting on the floor in front of him, trying to ground himself.

Gene walked onto the stage, everyone giving him a round of applause as they did every class. Barry was so out of it that he didn’t even notice until everyone was finishing up. He cursed himself for zoning out, his head in his hand as he was trying to push everything out of his mind so he could focus on whatever it was Mr. Cousineau was talking about. When he looked up, he could see his mouth moving but couldn’t hear any of the words coming out; the only thing he could hear was loud, constant buzzing, indicating that his anxiety was getting out of hand. The more he tried focusing the more he kept zoning out. 

“Did you hear me, Barry?” Mr. Cousineau asked, hearing his name snapped Barry out of his mini anxiety attack. 

He looked up, noticing that everyone was staring at him. Hopefully he wasn’t mumbling anything while he was out of it. 

“Oh, um…” Barry stuttered, picking aggressively at the skin on his hands, “n...no. I’m sorry.” 

Mr. Cousineau let out an annoyed sigh, and Barry could understand his frustration and felt bad that he had to repeat himself because of him. 

“I  _ said  _ we’ll be starting a small play; I’ll be giving out roles and scripts today. Did you hear it that time, Barry?” 

“Yes, Mr. Cousineau,” he mumbled, picking at his hands again until there was blood underneath his fingernails. 

Mr. Cousineau called everyone up one-by-one to come up to get their copy of the script with their roles highlighted. Barry had no idea what role Sally got, but she was going on how excited she was about it to their classmates, so it must’ve been a good one. When Barry was called up, he moved sluggishly, looking tired as he grabbed for the script that Mr. Cousineau didn’t let go of right away. 

“Get it together, Barry,” he whispered in his students ear before letting go of the stack of papers. Barry nodded, heading back to his seat as he was lifelessly flipping through the pages. He didn’t read anything besides the fact the name  _ Robert  _ was the lines that were highlighted. “I’ll give you all a loose ten to get into character, look through the parts,” he explained, stepping off the stage, “I’m excited to see how this goes.” 

Everyone grouped up, going through their scripts, asking everyone for their opinion on what mood their character should be in. Everyone except Barry, who stayed in his spot, skimming through the lines, not grasping what was in front of him. The point of being here tonight was to forget everything that happened in the past few days, right? Then why wasn’t it working like he had hoped? He rolled up his script, discreetly hitting it against his head, trying to get himself to focus, to be in the moment like he was trained to do. 

“Alright, are we ready?” Mr. Cousineau stood back on the stage, asking everyone. 

Oh, shit. Had it been ten minutes already? Everyone was agreeing that they were ready, but Barry was not. He thought he could pull himself out of this before time was up. Fuck, something else he failed at. 

Barry was still sitting while everyone was making their way up to the small stage. Sally was motioning him to come up. He let out a sigh, standing up, wiping the blood he could feel from the back of his hand on his dark pants. When would he kick this habit? 

Thankfully Barry’s character didn’t show up until a little bit later in the scene, which gave him some time to put himself in the zone. He tried focusing on his breathing, trying to focus on what was going on on the stage as he was standing off to the side, his eyes following what was being said on the script. Since he assumed he had disappointed Mr. Cousineau enough tonight and wanted to make him proud of him. Barry rubbed his face, trying to psych himself up, trying not to pick at his hands. 

The moment Barry heard his characters name being introduced, he stepped on stage, being blinded by the lights that were shining down on them. He held the script tightly in his hands as he awkwardly stood in place, facing Sally, whose character was going to be talking to him. 

“‘Robert’s coming, aren’t you, Rob?’” Sally said in character, looking at Barry with a smile on her face. Nodding slightly to tell him to go on. 

Barry opened his mouth, looking out at the empty seats, only seeing Mr. Cousineau sitting there, watching intensely in his usual seat in the center row. Suddenly he froze, he had no idea why or what was going on. He thought he heard police sirens from outside, so his heart began pounding against his chest.  _ Oh, shit. Oh God. They’re coming for me, aren’t they?  _ Barry though, clutching his script so tight that it began unreadable. 

Sally cleared her throat, gaining Barry’s attention once again as he looked back at her. 

“Rob, you’re gonna come to the party, right?” She edged on so Barry would start speaking. 

Barry nodded, looking down at his crumpled up script. “Oh… yeah, I’ll… I’ll be there. For sure,” Barry said lifelessly, not 100% there. 

Sally itched the side of her head, tilting it to the side, trying to go off from that, but it was hard. “‘I mean, Jon’s gonna be there, that’s not going to be a problem, is it?’”

“N…not at all.” 

“Cut!” Gene said loudly, standing up from his seat, walking up to the stage. He pressed his palms on the stage floor, glaring up at Barry who looked around awkwardly. “What the hell are you doing, Barry?” He asked him, sounding somewhat concerned, but slightly frustrated at the same time. 

“I’m-I’m-I’m reading-” 

“You sound dead inside!” 

“I’m… not really feeling all here today,” Barry admitted, dropping his arms to his sides. 

“You need to suck it up and get it together!” He snapped, before going back to his seat. Barry knew he didn’t mean it, it was his twisted way of getting someone in the mood of the play, to force them into the mindset that they were practicing the play. While everyone did sound a little uptight since they were reading a new script, none of them sounded as bad as Barry did at the moment, so he was trying hard to pull himself together. 

* * *

At the end of the night, everyone left before Barry could get the chance to get his stuff. Once he did, he threw his backpack over his shoulder, tucking his hands in his pocket as he walked out of the theater. All he wanted to do was get to his car, get to the hotel and forget this embarrassing night. The moment he stepped outside, Sally was waiting for him, ready to walk him to his car. 

“Barry, you bombed. What’s wrong?” She asked him, playfully bumping into him. She stopped in front of him so he had no choice but to talk to her. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but that’s when he saw the same car from earlier, but this time the car had moved up closer to the theater. The guy in the car, that Barry couldn’t make out, was watching everyone who was leaving the building. 

Barry was silent, turning away from Sally to go back to his car. He didn’t say a word to her, which made her even more worried about him. She was calling after him, but he had no idea what she was saying to him, he just needed to get out of here. 

“Barry? Barry!” She called after him some more, but he still didn’t say anything. 

He just got in his car, starting it before quickly backing out of his parking spot. Barry didn’t even look both ways on the side road before pulling out, driving quickly, leaving the theater and the car behind. His heart was pounding against his chest to the point Barry thought he was either going to pass out or his heart was going to rip through. The car didn’t appear to be following him, but he wasn’t taking any chances. 

He jerked his steering wheel to the left, turning onto a random neighborhood. The second house down Barry had decided that that driveway would be good enough as he pulled up into it, turning off his headlights. He was watching the road he had just pulled off from. It wasn’t long until the same car that had been parked outside the theater the whole night slowly drove by, causing Barry to swallow hard. Fuck. Someone was looking for him. 

Great. 


	4. But What If?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting so close to the confrontation that I'm gonna scream when I post it.

After finding out that Barry was, in fact, being followed by an unknown person in an unknown car, he couldn’t take any more chances. On the way back to the hotel he was taking the back way, with many turns, took almost thirty-minutes longer, and overall was a pain in the ass. However, if that’s what Barry had to do to be kept from being followed then he’d do it over and over again. The entire time to keep from picking at his skin, he kept drumming his steering wheel, trying to focus on anything but  _ that. _ Well… it seemed like he wasn’t being followed at this point, so maybe it was time to head back to the hotel; he was starting to feel exhausted anyways. With all the anxiety attacks and dissociation, of course he had the right to feel tired. He felt embarrassed about what happened in class tonight anyways, so isolating completely until the next classes sounded like the perfect plan for him. 

Once he got back to the hotel, Barry was standing in front of the elevator, not yet having pressed a button. He swallowed hard as he was looking at all the floor options, but couldn’t bring himself to press on for some reason.  _ I’ll be followed, I’ll be followed, I’ll be-  _ He snapped out of it quickly when he heard the elevator beep, indicating that someone was on their way down. Eyes wide, Barry backed off quickly, heading to the stairwell to go up to the third floor of the hotel, constantly checking over his shoulder as he did. 

There wasn’t a reason he should’ve been so panicked, right? Hell, he wasn’t even this anxious when he killed Janice. Just the fact that he kept the cop alive, that there was that slim chance that he couldn’t be out there again trying to find him sent Barry crazy. He couldn’t wait to tell Fuches what was bothering him this time, just so he could get slapped and told that he was overreacting, to just calm the fuck down and it’ll all go away. Hopefully… 

He opened the door to the hotel room, all the lights were off, meaning that Fuches wasn’t in the room. Barry couldn’t think of where he could’ve run off too; he only went to the diner down the street, or once in a while he would go out personally to talk to a new contract. Whatever it was he was up to, Barry was hoping that it didn’t involve him in any way. The last job was exactly that…  _ the last job.  _

From his back pocket, Barry could feel his phone vibrating. He was hoping that it was Fuches, explaining what he was up to, but it was Sally.   
_You okay? _

_ U seem upset :(  _

Barry sighed, throwing his phone on his pull out bed, which he could not be happier to see. He plopped down, hearing the springs settle from underneath him, putting his face in his hands as he let out a sigh. His heart was still pounding against his chest like he was in the middle of a gun fight, he needed to ground himself somehow. Who was Barry kidding? He didn’t have the coping skills to deal with this; he wanted to throw things, break things, release this anger somehow. 

“I’m gonna have to kill him,” Barry mumbled to himself almost as if on autopilot, like he didn’t know what he was saying. “No, don’t do that…” he smacked his closed fist hard against his head trying to get rid of those thoughts. “You had your chance, you let him live, you can’t take that back now.” 

Barry looked over to his right, seeing his laptop that was sitting with the screen half way closed. He couldn’t help himself when he grabbed it, opening his history and going back to Eddie’s Facebook profile. He couldn’t stop thinking about this; yeah, that was certainly the cop he let live, there was no doubt about that. Barry must’ve known him from Maine, even though he didn’t remember much of the place he knew  _ him  _ somehow. Something in Barry’s brain was trying to break free; memories, a bunch of memories were trying to escape being locked up after all these years. There was a lot Barry couldn’t exactly remember and it drove him fucking crazy, like something was trapped under his skin and he needed to rip it out. 

_ Eddie Kaspbrak.  _ The name filled Barry with happiness, like he knew him from long ago. A long lost friend maybe? Barry smacked his forehead a couple of times, trying to get himself to think harder about this. Nothing was exactly coming to mind, pushing Barry into further frustrating. 

Suddenly, Barry slammed the laptop shut, putting it on the floor as he began breathing heavily.  _ Fuck.  _ He needed someone to talk to. Now. 

He grabbed his phone, calling Fuches, praying that he picks up. 

“Barry!” Fuches answered, sounding happy yet drunk at the same time. Must’ve been at the bar. 

“Fuches…” Barry said, trying to keep his voice from shaking more than it already was. 

“What’s the matter, son? You okay?” He asked, and Barry couldn’t tell if he really cared or was just drunk so it seemed like he cared. 

“I’m fine… I just… You know how I lived in Maine?” 

Fuches was silent for a moment, trying to understand what he was talking about.  _ Oh. Right.  _ “Huh?” 

“Maine. I lived in Derry and we moved the Ohio.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Barry. We lived in Ohio,” he obviously lied through his teeth. 

“No… no, I know where I grew up, Fuches. Derry, Maine. That’s… all I remember though. It’s like… a mental block. I don’t remember where I went to school, I don’t remember my parents or home life, shit, I don’t even know if I had friends.”

“Ooooh…” Fuches said, panicking before taking a quick shot. He was getting his lies tangled and needed to play along now. “Right.  _ Derry.  _ That place was so small I almost forgot about it.”  _ How could he tell Barry that his father moved him and his wife to that town because it was so small and nobody could find him there?  _ He wouldn’t. “Right. I took you to Ohio when you were sixteen, remember?” 

“I mean… yeah, but-” 

“I don’t have any answers for you, Barry. I took you out of there when your parents left.”

Barry opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Fuches had hung up on him almost immediately. Well, that left Barry with more questions than answers, and he was feeling more upset than he did before calling Fuches.  _ Thanks.  _ He grabbed his laptop again, typing in  _ Derry, Maine  _ in the Facebook search bar, hoping to find other people who may have lived there that maybe he could recognize. 

Only a small handful of people showed up in the search area, none of which Barry recognized based on faces and names. Barry was better at knowing faces than names anyways, but this wasn’t at all helpful. Well… there was one he possibly recognized. A woman with red hair named Beverly Hanscom. She was pretty, someone Barry felt like he also remembered. 

Fuck. Barry didn’t know what the fuck was going on anymore, he was in an endless loop of  _ what if’s  _ and it was driving him insane. 

* * *

Driving up and down the dark roads only being covered by street lamps was making Eddie grumpy and antsy. How could he have lost their car so easily? It was a crappy old beat up car that would’ve been easy to spot. He had no idea who was driving it, but based on how the tall man was acting outside noticing Eddie’s car it made him suspicious. Yeah, he noticed how often this guy was looking around his mirrors in his car, getting out the moment he saw Eddie’s car and was trying to hide his face from him. All of that jumped out as suspicious, right? Or maybe the need to catch the guy who shot him and most likely Janice was getting the better of Eddie. 

Shaking his head, Eddie turned his unmarked car around, heading back to the theater. There was only car left in the parking lot, hopefully it was Gene Cousineau hanging behind. That’s who Eddie really needed to talk to right now. He put on the necklace he carried around with his police badge, he only used it when he was wearing civilian clothes but needed to do police work on the side. 

When Eddie stepped out of the car he checked his surroundings, making sure nobody was going to ambush him as he limped his way to the theater. That was the last thing he needed. He wasn’t carrying his gun and would be defenseless if anyone tried anything. 

The theater was dark when he entered, only the lights up by the main stage were on and the lights in the nearby hallway. Eddie looked around before making his way down the hallway, he didn’t see anyone yet. 

“Gene Cousineau?” He called out, hoping to get a response. There was some fumbling around on the second door on the right, so that’s where Eddie headed to. He stood in the doorway, seeing an older man he recognized from the pictures of the possible suspects back at the station. The man that Mae had swore was innocent. “Gene?” He asked again. 

“Interested in the class?” was the only thing the older man said, standing up from his chair at his desk. “First class is free then you gotta pay upfront,” he continued as he picked up the picture frame that tumbled to the floor. 

“Oh, no, I’m not… I’m Officer Kaspbrak,” he held up his necklace badge to the older man who looked at it with a confused expression. “I was hoping we could talk about Janice Moss. It won’t take long, I promise.” Gene didn’t say anything, he only gestured to the seat that was in front of his desk, both taking a seat. “Firstly, I want to apologize if I… bring up any old feelings,” Eddie started, pulling out a small notepad and pen from his front t-shirt pocket. “But I need to know what happened the night you last saw her.” Eddie noticed the picture frame that Gene was putting back on his desk was a picture of him and Janice, both in formal wear with huge smiles on their faces.  _ Aw, that’s sweet.  _

“Well… we were up at my cabin with two of my students; Sally Reed and Barry Block,” as he was talking Eddie was scribbling down notes, 

“Why were you guys up there?” 

“Well, I was bringing Janice and thought since Sally and Barry were together at the time they’d like to come join us.” 

“Okay,” Eddie pulled the folded up pictures that were sticking out of his back pocket, “I need a visual,” he started, handing the pictures over to Gene, “which one is Sally and Barry?” Yeah, the pictures had their names on the back, but Eddie needed to be sure who was who here. The first picture was of the pretty woman with blonde hair and green eyes, the other one who Eddie had expected to be Barry Block. Great. “So they’re dating?” He asked, turning the pictures over so he could see them.

“Well…” Gene shrugged a little, “off and on again. An odd chemistry between them.” 

Eddie bit his bottom lip, trying to think of anymore questions he may have had. Nothing was coming to mind at the moment, so that should be it for now. 

“Mr. Cousineau, I just want to thank you for your time and cooperation. I’ll come back if I have anymore questions, but if you have anything else for me…” he dug through his shirt pocket again, pulling out his card. “Feel free to give me a call.” 

“Wait,” Gene said as they both stood up, holding the card in his hands, “why are you opening this case up again? And why my class of all people? None of them could hurt a fly- well… besides Ryan who apparently could’ve, I suppose.”

Eddie put a hand on his leg as it suddenly started to ache. “I think I may have discovered some connections between the case,” he started, “I feel like the same person who killed Ryan also killed Janice and…” he paused a moment, starting to feel emotional himself. “Janice was my best friend, y’know?” Eddie was doing his best to not cry in front of Gene. He was a police officer, he needed to keep his emotions in check. “I just need to make sure the right people are getting punished for the crime.” 

Gene held out his hand to Eddie, who looked at it before looking up at the shorter man.

“Thank you,” Gene said with a sad smile on his face as Eddie shook his hand. “Thank you for reopening the case. I haven’t been able to sleep at night because I just know it was never properly solved. Oh! Here!” He moved to his coat that was on the back of his office chair. He pulled out a key, dropping it in Eddie’s hand. “That’s the key to my cabin if you need it to look around.” 

“Thank you, this’ll be helpful. Have a goodnight, Mr. Cousineau.” 

“Stay safe, Officer.” 

The moment Eddie turned to leave the office tears were silently falling down his face. He waited until he was walking down the hallway to wipe them off.  _ Keep it together, save the emotions for later,  _ he thought to himself as he went back out to his car. 


	5. Truly a Small World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I cannot wait for the next chapter. (: Sorry this took so long, my computer kept dying out on me and I had to wait for my parts to come in to build a new one. Since this one is working wonders I'll be back on updating!

Early the next day, Eddie made sure he got up early enough to pay Sally Reed a visit; he had managed to find her address with the notes that Janice had left behind when she did all the hard parts of the investigation. Eddie had all the pieces in front of him, he just had to put them together so they made some sort of sense. The address was listed as a  _ last known address,  _ so he was hoping it was still correct, well, it should be, it wasn’t too long since it was noted. He had to be getting close to something, right? The past few days of running around trying to get ahold of some sort of lead had to be getting him somewhere. This was not going to be for nothing; Janice’s death wasn’t going to be nothing. That was his best fucking friend and he was going to make sure this case would be finally solved for real. 

Before getting out of his police cruiser, Eddie had to close his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself before going up to Sally’s apartment. The other night he almost lost his emotions around Gene, which he absolutely could not do while on the clock, whatever he was feeling couldn’t play a role in this case. The only thing he was allowed to feel was determination in closing this case; he sure needed it since it felt like a lot of dead ends and was starting to get frustrated.  _ Breathe, Eddie, it’ll be okay,  _ he thought to himself, opening his eyes, they were now burning from the sunlight entering through the windshield. Okay, he was ready. 

Eddie made sure he had everything on him, the file, his notebook, yeah, he was ready to go. Letting out a sigh, getting out of the car. He made his way to the building that belonged to Sally, going up three flights of stairs. At least it gave Eddie some time to figure out what he wanted to say, what he should and shouldn’t bring up about the night Janice got murdered. He had a vague idea about what was already asked a bunch of times, he knew what he needed to ask, even if it meant he had to repeat questions. 

_ You’ve done this hundreds of times, you know what to do. You got this, you’re okay,  _ Eddie thought to himself, standing at the top of the stairs, catching his breath.  _ Get in, get out, get the answers, move on with the case, you’ll be fine.  _ Eddie moved down the hallway, finding the door labeled with 41 plastered on it. 

Eddie knocked on her door, standing there awkwardly while waiting for someone to answer. He chewed at his bottom lip, going over everything he hopefully could ask and question Sally about.  _ Just get in, get out, you’ve done this many times,  _ he reminded himself again. There were footsteps on the other side of the door, someone was talking and laughing softly as they approached the door. 

“ _ ...oh, hold on,”  _ Eddie heard the person on the other side say before the door unlocked, opening up. A woman with blonde hair and green eyes opened a door, a smile on her face opened the door. The moment she saw Eddie’s police uniform her smile dropped. She put the phone back up to her ear. “I’ll call you back.” She said quickly before hanging up the phone. “Oh… hi,” she said awkwardly, “is there something I can help you with, officer?” 

Eddie gave her a small smile. “I’m Officer Kaspbrak; my badge number is 27988.” He pointed at his badge that was above his left chest pocket. “Are you Sally Reed?” He asked as a precaution. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” 

“Would it be alright if I come in and ask you a few questions?” 

“Of course.” She moved aside, holding the door open so Officer Kaspbrak could come inside her small apartment. Suddenly she was feeling embarrassed, she wasn’t expecting to have company of any kind, so her place was a mess. “Sorry about… all this,” she gestured towards the mess on the floor, “I wasn’t expecting anyone.” 

Eddie shook his head. “It’s alright, this shouldn’t take too long.” Sally motioned towards the small dining room table that sat in the middle of her kitchen. 

“Did you want anything to drink? Water…?” 

“No, I’m good, thank you.” They both took a seat across from each other. “I just wanted to ask you some questions about what happened the night Janice Moss was murdered. Gene Cousineau said you were there at his cabin the night it happened?” Eddie took out his notebook from his pocket.

“Yeah, me and my… then boyfriend were both there.” 

“Barry Block?” Sally nodded, fidgeting with her fingers as she was kinda nervous. She thought this case had been closed. “Did you hear anything that night at all? Gunshots? Screaming? Maybe anything that could come close to a struggle?”

“No, I slept through the night. I’m a pretty light sleeper, so I think I would’ve woken up if I did hear something, y’know?” She watched as he scribbled something down, she couldn’t quite make out what he wrote down.

“I haven’t had a chance to look at the cabin yet, but was there a sign of a break in? I’m sure that would’ve been in my notes if there was, right?” 

“Yeah, no, nobody broke in. I don’t even think anyone came into the house that night. The doors are pretty creaky.” 

“And you would’ve woken up if someone did leave the house?”

“For sure.” 

Eddie quickly jotted that down, making sure he got every detail right. “Where was your room as opposed to Gene and Janice’s?” 

“Right across the hall.” 

“Alright, so yeah, you would’ve heard if someone left. Thin walls I assume?” 

Sally shuddered, remembering what she heard that night when she and Barry were trying to fall asleep coming from the room across the hall. “Unfortunately.” Eddie smirked, writing something else down. 

“So what happened the morning when nobody could find Janice? Tell me about that.” 

“Gene woke us up at like… ten in the morning, saying that Janice wasn’t in bed and he couldn’t find her around the cabin. Which was like… weird, because I didn’t hear anything all night like I said. Her stuff was still in Gene’s room, but her car wasn’t there anymore.”

“And nobody could narrow down where the car went?” 

“I think the officers that came out said there were tire tracks in the dirt, but it just…” Sally turned her finger around, “lead around in circles and they gave up.” 

Eddie had originally made it a point to check out the cabin, but he wasn’t sure if it would’ve done any good at this point. However, he did want to see what tire tracks she was talking about, the car had to have hidden up somewhere and Eddie was going to find it. While Sally was being a huge help but telling Eddie everything she knew, it was mainly what he already knew. 

“I think I just have one more question,” Eddie finally said, tapping his notepad with his pen gently, “where does Barry Block live? I didn’t see it anywhere in the notes, I could only assume Janice couldn’t find his address.” 

Sally shifted awkwardly in her seat. “Oh… yeah, I…” she let out a small laugh, “I actually don’t know where he lives.” 

Eddie couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, instantly starting to think that she was covering up for him. “How is that possible if you been dating off and on again?” He asked, resting his chin on his hand that was propped up on the table. 

“Well, he’s never really invited me over. It’s always been at my place or we just go out for the night and go our separate ways, but we never hung out at his place before.” Alright, that answer was good enough for Eddie. “But if you want to talk to him, he'll be in class tomorrow.” 

No, Eddie couldn’t wait another day, especially if that was Barry who sped out of the parking lot the other night.  _ If  _ that was Barry, Eddie couldn’t help but assume that they had something to hide, they booked it out of there and Eddie couldn’t pinpoint where they sped off too. He must’ve checked, double checked, and triple checked before heading back to the theater to talk with Gene. Eddie could only assume that Barry was quick, so he needed to be at least two steps ahead of him. 

“Or,” Sally started again, snapping Eddie out of his thoughts, looking back up at her, “sometimes he hangs out at that bar called the Beer Garden. Always sits in the back alone. Couldn’t miss him.” 

“I’ll check it out, thank you for your time, Sally.” He stood up, pulling his card out from his front uniform pocket, handing it over to her. “Call me if you need anything,” he said with a small smile before heading to the front door, hearing Sally saying  _ thanks, I will.  _

Seeing himself out, he knew that he had to find Barry before tomorrow in case he would try to ditch the class. 

* * *

It wasn’t unusual for Barry to be out drinking alone at a bar, his favorite being the Beer Garden, a bar not too far away from his hotel. He would either be there alone or sometimes he’d go with Fuches, maybe even Sally if they were on good terms at that moment. No, tonight he was alone, he needed to be alone as he was stressing out and didn’t want to be worried about pleasing the other person by striking up or holding a conversation. All Barry wanted was to sit in silence, alone, get drunk and forgot all his issues. Was that a healthy coping skill? Absolutely not. Did it work for him? Sure. 

Barry was slumped in the booth he always sat in at the back of the bar, fidgeting with the beer bottle in his hand as he was trying to drown out his thoughts as best as he could before getting drunk. He wanted to know if he could at least shut his thoughts down by himself for a little bit before letting the alcohol take over.  _ God, what a sad person I am,  _ Barry couldn’t help but think to himself as he stared down at the table, zoning out as he was starting to dissociate. Fuck, he hated feeling detached, but maybe that’s what he needed to stop feeling all these worthless emotions. Maybe he needed to learn to shut down. 

Honestly, Barry lowkey wanted to invite Sally out to drink with him in a way. While he wanted to stay quiet and do nothing, he knew that Sally would fill the silence if it ever got too much. It didn’t matter if he responded or not because she would keep on talking about her day, and honestly, it made Barry smile whenever she did. Sally surely knew how to brighten a room. Maybe he needed more of that in his life. Unfortunately they had gotten into an argument a few days ago, so Barry didn’t want to push anything besides that conversation they had in the parking lot in class the other day. Yeah, she must’ve wanted space away from him, right? Or, at least that’s what Barry convinced himself that’s what she wanted.

While Barry was deep into his thoughts, he took another sip of his beer, looking over at whoever was standing next to his table. When the memory finally clicked in Barry’s brain that he was looking at the same cop he had encountered at the house the other night, the same cop he had shot in the foot to save both of them so he could flee, the same cop Barry was sure followed him to class last night standing there looking at him with his arms folded over his chest so Barry sat up quickly, almost choking on his alcohol. Oh, shit. How did Officer Kaspbrak find him? Did he follow him here? If so, how long had he been following him? Barry had started coughing from the burning sensation that was now lingering in his throat, causing Officer Kaspbrak to take a step back in case he was sick or something. There was no way he was catching someone else’s cold.

“Wh-...” Barry started to say, looking back up at the officer who gave him a questioning look. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still trying to find the words to say to the officer without sounded suspicious. “What… uh…”  _ this was not working out well.  _ “Hey,” Barry finally settled on, kicking himself mentally for that. 

“Uh, hi,” Officer Kaspbrak answered awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Is there something you needed?” 

“Barry Block?” 

Barry’s eyes went wide, already seeing himself getting arrested. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he answered quickly, tapping his fingers against the beer bottle nervously, “yeah, that’s me,” he forced a smile. 

“Mind if I have a seat?” 

“Yeah, sure, that’s fine.”  _ No, that was not fine.  _ Barry wanted him to go away, he felt like everywhere he turned Officer Kaspbrak was there, waiting for some evidence to fall from the sky, waiting for Barry to do something wrong. Well, granted he  _ did  _ do something wrong, but the officer didn’t need to know it was him. He still had that forced smile on his face as Eddie sat in the booth from across from him. “What do you need?” 

For the first time, Barry noticed that Officer Kaspbrak was carrying a file with him. Whatever was in it was making Barry nervous, this whole situation was fucked up and he didn’t want anything to do with it anymore. He was starting to think maybe killing him would’ve made his life easier, at least that way he wouldn’t be looking over his shoulder constantly, not staying up all night wondering if the police sirens from outside his hotel room were coming from him, he just wanted to go back to his semi decent life where he gave up his job and was focusing on the class. 

Officer Kaspbrak took the old photo from the lipstick cam that Janice had made up, passing it over to Barry across the table. Trying to calm his shaky hands, Barry picked it up, studying it for a moment, trying to look close to make sure his face wasn’t at all in it. He should’ve known that it wasn’t, otherwise Janice would’ve had the original case opened and closed in a matter of days. 

“What is this supposed to be?” Barry asked, acting dumb with another forced smile on his face, looking at Officer Kaspbrak who didn’t look at all amused by his comment. 

“Drop the act, Barry,” Officer Kaspbrak responded, a neutral expression now on his face, causing Barry to drop his fake smile, “you know exactly what you’re looking at. You’ve seen that picture before. Detective Janice Moss showed you, along with your entire acting class, that photo.” 

_ Damn, he was good.  _

“Right… right, right.” He looked at it again, trying to act interested in what he was being shown. 

Officer Kaspbrak proceeded to pass over two new pictures that Barry has never seen before. Barry’s heart slammed against his chest now as he saw that they were stills from security footage from the house he was in last week.  _ Fuck, there was more than that one camera?  _ Barry thought, switching out the lipstick cam photo for the two stills. He was doing everything he could to not seem nervous, trying to stop his hands from shaking as he looked at them, studying every piece to make sure there was no way to tell if it was actually him. His hood was covering his face in the front door camera and his ski mask in the other, nothing was reflective to reveal that it was him. Okay, that’s good. 

“They kinda look the same, huh?” Officer Kaspbrak basically said as he squeezed his hands together. Judging on his tone, Barry knew that he wasn’t actually asking a question, but more of a fact. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Barry started, “I’m not a cop.” He gave a small shrug, sliding the pictures back over to him. 

Officer Kaspbrak only nodded in agreement as he put the pictures back into the file where they belonged. When he looked back up at Barry, he knitted his eyebrows together as he was starting to get lost in thought. There was something about him that he recognized but couldn’t exactly put his finger on it. Like… somehow he knew him from a long time ago. Although, Eddie would’ve been sure if he had met Barry before, he was cute, someone that he wouldn’t have forgotten easily. Fuck, this was going to drive him crazy. 

“Where are you from, Barry?” Officer Kaspbrak finally asked. Irrelevant, but he needed to know. 

“I was born in Derry, Maine, but when I was six-teen I moved to Cleveland with my uncle.” 

Officer Kaspbrak now had a confused look on his face. “Small world. I’m also from Derry. Don’t remember much of the damn place though…” he trailed off, trying to pull  _ something  _ from his memories but his mind was failing to do so. He snapped out of it, looking at Barry again. “There was a reason I came to talk to you tonight, Barry.” Barry just nodded, picking at the label at the beer bottle. “You were there with Janice that night she went missing, right?” 

“Y...yeah.” 

“So what happened the night before she went missing?” 

Barry shrugged. “We all just talked, we had dinner, went to bed. Nothing really unusual,” he said, trying to remember the exact things they did that night so it didn’t seem like he was lying. 

“And you didn’t hear her leave the house? Anything that sounded like a break in?” Barry shook his head. Officer Kaspbrak let out a sigh, he didn’t know where else to go with this, he had a strong feeling that Barry knew more than what he let on, but right now he was tired. Tired and was trying to remember a past he couldn’t force out of his brain. “Alright, well…” Officer Kaspbrak pulled the same card he gave to Sally from out of his shirt pocket, handing it over to Barry, “call me if you hear anything.” 

Barry gave a small smile, nodding. Officer Kaspbrak held out his hand to him, which Barry shook, feeling small tingles of electricity run through their hands. 

“Thanks for talking to me tonight, Barry.” With that, Officer Kaspbrak left the bar without another word. 

Barry let out a sigh of relief once he was out of line of sight, chugging the beer sitting in front of him. 


	6. Richie Tozier?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! This is why I wanted to make this fic in the first place, because I had this encounter in my head.  


Barry couldn’t sleep that night, he kept tossing and turning, his mind wandering way too far that he couldn’t reel his thoughts back in. He was moving around so much that Fuches told him to ‘shut the fuck up’ from his room which was connected to the living room, throwing an extra pillow towards Barry that did land on him. Barry had covered his face with the pillow that Fuches threw at him, hoping he could make himself pass out from lack of oxygen, knowing damn well that that wouldn’t really work. He couldn’t help it, yeah, he was worried and panicked before, but since Officer Kaspbrak had tracked him down tonight without Barry even realizing he was now on a higher alert. How did he find him? Did he follow him? And if he was following him, how long had he been doing so? Fuck, if Officer Kaspbrak comes to him again Barry was just going to shoot him, he was sick of feeling this paranoid. He already killed one cop, what was killing one more?

As soon as Barry started to fall asleep, managing to shut his brain down for an hour, he was woken up by Fuches at three in the morning. The older man had flipped on all the nights, singing and humming loudly as he was getting ready to head out. Barry grumbled loudly so Fuches would get the point that one of them was  _ trying  _ to sleep around here. He had convinced himself that Fuches was only doing this because Barry was being too loud earlier. 

“What’re you doing?” Barry mumbled from behind the pillow that he still had covering his face to block out the lights. 

“I have a meeting to go to,” Fuches answered in a sleepish voice, putting his belt through the loops of his pants. 

Barry moved the pillow from his face, squinting his eyes at the lights that met with him as he was now staring up at the ceiling. Looking at the digital clock on the nightstand next to the couch that he stole from Fuches’ side bed. 

“What the fuck kinda meeting starts so early?”  _ Early? Late? Whatever, it was three in the morning and was too soon to be getting up for a meeting.  _ “And do I have to go?” 

“No,” Fuches answered, a sigh of relief escaped from Barry before he put the pillow back over his face to block out the light once again. “It’s with NoHo Hank,” he continued, slipping his feet into his old, beat up shoes, “may have another job for you, Barry.” 

“No.”

“Yes, Barry.”

“No! I told you I’m not doing anymore jobs! I’m done with that, I told you. You agreed.” 

“I never agreed to that. There’s a difference between me going  _ uhhuh  _ and me saying  _ yes, Barry, that was your last job. _ I’ll be back soon.” He patted Barry’s arm before heading out of the hotel room. 

The pillow was starting to get wet from the case collecting the tears that had built up in Barry’s eyes over the news. He should’ve expected this, he knew that Fuches wasn’t going to let him go so easily, not while he was so good at his job and was willing to kill anyone with good enough reason and enough pay. Why would Fuches agree to him when he was just going to turn his back on his word, this wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Just because Fuches took care of him since he was six-teen meant that he had to trade his freedom in for a life as a criminal was beyond fucked up. Well, maybe Barry wasn’t a saint either, he had to admit to himself that he liked the job at first, he actually liked the feeling of pulling the trigger and ending someone's life. He was a psychopath, he knew that, he was told that many, many, many times while being locked up at the hospital, that’s what everyone thought of him in the Marines after what he did, but honestly he couldn’t care less back then. Now that he found something, something that he enjoyed, something that took the depression away even for a few hours a couple of times a week, he didn’t want to do this anymore. 

Frustrated with his thoughts, Barry gripped the pillow even tighter, so tightly that his knuckles turned white, feeling the anger and frustration building up in his chest. Barry had a hard time expressing his negative emotions in a healthy way, almost like the time at the hospital and therapy sessions that were meant to teach him healthy coping skills didn’t even happen. Sometimes he could catch himself before the anger got out of control so he could do the deep breathing exercises that actually did help if he did them, but most times he completely lost it. When Barry got angry he would take it out anyway he could, on himself mostly as his new ‘coping skill’ would determine that, he would punch things, break things, if he could, he would hurt whoever made him that angry to begin with. Right now he wanted to hurt Fuches, he wanted to hurt him so bad, to smash his head against the wall, to make sure that he felt the pain as Barry had determined that just shooting him would be too easy. 

Letting out a sigh, Barry moved the pillow from his face, looking at the tear stains that were still there. The overwhelming feelings he had were becoming too much to handle. Maybe if he went to therapy and learned the proper coping skills he could be happier. ...or maybe if he killed Fuches and Officer Kaspbrak and started a new life on the other side of town, never bringing up the fact he knew who they were or what happened to them he could finally be happy. Yeah, okay, that would be cheaper than therapy.

The lights were still on in the hotel room, and Barry didn’t want to get out of his warm pull out bed to turn them off. He wanted more than anything to just fall back to sleep, and he knew that if he got up he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. He stared at the light switch that was next to the door of the hotel room,  _ goddammit, why did it have to be so far away?  _ He groaned, throwing the pillow that he was holding at it, hoping that it would magically hit just right to flip them off. Barry pulled himself out of bed, slumping as he made his way over to the door, turning off the lights then plopping back into bed. 

Laying on his stomach in the now completely dark room with the blinds and curtains blocking out all of the lights from outside, Barry slowly closed his eyes. Being up all night and the slight buzz of booze was still in his system and it was making him sleepy. He pulled the blanket up over him, scrunching his face up as the thoughts from earlier were starting to come back to torture him again. 

“Just let me sleep!” Barry shouted out to nobody in particular expect maybe to his own mind, tingling his fingers through his hair and pulling to make himself feel some pain. “For five minutes! Let me sleep!” He began to hit his head against the pillow, like that would do anything except maybe jog the memories away from him briefly. 

_ Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep,  _ Barry kept thinking to himself over and over again. He wanted the words to be a reality, to sleep for once since he had nothing really going on today until later tonight when he went back to the acting class. Maybe during class he would be able to forget everything, to enjoy the class and not be a complete fuck up. Maybe he wasn’t meant to do anything great, maybe being a hitman and a killer was exactly what he was made to do. Just like what Fuches told him. 

No, no way, he was not going to do what Fuches told him, he had to keep pushing through and eventually everything would be okay. 

Everything would be okay. 

_ Everything would be okay.  _

* * *

Barry was finally able to calm himself enough to fall back to sleep, it wasn’t a long sleep, but it was something, right? Fuches left at three, and it was now nine in the morning when Barry heard someone pounding on their hotel room.  _ Oh shit _ . Barry sat up quickly, blinking a couple of times to have his vision restore itself from the natural blurry that he was seeing. It wasn’t working, he needed to put his contacts in before answering the door, just in case it was someone other than Fuches, which… it shouldn’t be Fuches since he had a key to the hotel room. Unless it was…  _ Officer Kaspbrak?  _

He scrambled to his feet, grabbing his contacts case from his side table of the couch. When he opened the small case he groaned when he saw that there wasn’t anything in there. Fuck, that’s right, he had gotten rid of his old ones last night since he could barely see out of them and needed to get them replaced. Well, that’s why he had a second pair, right? There was another knock at the door as Barry opened the table drawer where he kept his backup pair, opening the small case and nothing was in them.  _ Shit, that’s right.  _ The ones he had been wearing  _ were  _ the backup pair. Barry couldn’t survive without something for his eyesight, as he was as blind as a bat without them. 

There was only one thing left that Barry could do to survive without his contacts for at least a week… Kneeling down next to his backpack, Barry searched through, trying to find the case that was hiding somewhere underneath all of the junk. 

“Hold on!” Barry called when there was a third knock at the door. 

Finally he felt his fingers brush over the plastic case at the bottom of his backpack. Pulling it out he popped open the case, taking out the old glasses he hasn’t touched in years, not since he switched over to contacts. The only reason he did switch was because Fuches had suggested it to him before he went into the Service. So it’s been a long time since he’s worn them but always made sure he had them on him just in case something like this happened. 

Surprisingly enough the glasses still worked for Barry’s eyesight. It felt weird wearing them again after all these years, but, hey, they worked. Standing up, Barry moved over to the door, looking through the peephole to see that it was only Fuches standing on the other side. Alone from what Barry could tell. He opened the door, the shorter man pushing past him to come back inside without saying a word. 

“Where’s your key?” Barry asked, breaking the silence. 

“I must’ve lost it,” he admitted, spinning on his heels to look at Barry, opening his mouth to speak. It had caught him off guard to see him wearing a pair of glasses as he was accustomed to the contact lenses. “What the fuck are those?” 

“Oh…” Barry touched the side of the glasses, “I need them to see.” 

“Where are your contacts? Don’t wear those.” 

“I don’t have anymore. I need to pick more up.” Fuches groaned, throwing his arms up in frustration as he turned his back to Barry. “What’s wrong? What happened last night?” 

“Hank texted me,” Fuches started, turning back around to face Barry with a smile on his face as he was obviously on something with all these mood swings. “He’s got a job for us to do!” 

Barry groaned, so the conversation that they had last night wasn’t some fucking fever dream or something. They really argued whether or not he was still doing work for them. Great. That was great, so Barry was going to end up caving in and killing another person. Hopefully a better reason than his last job… and hopefully without any cops showing up at the end.

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Fuches. Please…” Barry tried pleading, to get it through his uncle’s thick skull, but he knew that it wasn’t going to work. Nothing ever worked. “I’m in acting class, Fuches. I’m… happy.” The last sentence was obviously forced that even Fuches picked up on it, rolling his eyes. Barry swallowed, trying to think of something else to try to say to convince him to not let him do this, but if that meeting last night was to discuss the information and details about the job then it was already too late. 

“That’s a  _ hobby,  _ Barry. I told you to not let it consume all your time, right?” Barry closed his eyes, nodding. “And that’s kinda what it’s doing. Your job is more important,” Fuches said, grabbing Barry’s shoulders, the taller man opened his eyes and looked at him.  _ He wanted to punch that stupid smile off his goddamn face.  _ “Don’t let this acting shit get in the way of what really matters.”

“What really matters?” He asked, not sure what he was talking about. 

“Money!’ Fuches answered happily, laughing as he patted one of Barry’s shoulders before letting him go. “So listen,” he sat down on Barry’s bed, motioning for him to sit down next to him, which he did, “Hank hired you again.”

_ Oh, this was starting off wonderful,  _ Barry thought to himself as he rolled his eyes.

“So,” Fuches continued, acting as though he didn’t see Barry roll his fucking eyes, “he’s hired a couple of new people, something about… something,” he wave his hand, skipping out on some details that Barry felt like he should know about, but whatever he supposed, “but… he feels like one of them is a rat.” 

Barry gave Fuches a bored look, not sure what this has to do with him. “Okay? And? Why doesn’t he just get rid of him?”

“How would that look with the other guys? Their new boss just goes around killing the new employees? Nah, that’s where you come in.” 

“I really wish it weren’t…” 

“Shush. The guys name is Isaiah Bell.” Fuches handed Barry the picture of the guy; a man with a terrible tan and dark features. “Take him out.” 

Barry narrowed his eyes. “Like, to dinner, or…?”

Fuches groaned, smacking his own forehead in frustration. “No! Take him out!” He moved his hand across his throat as if it were a knife. 

“Oh… oh! When you put it that way… No.”

Fuches picked up the small backpack he had dropped in between their feet before sitting on the bed. He opened it up before handing it over to Barry. The backpack was filled with money. “Here’s half of your payment.” Yeah, he knew exactly how to get Barry to change his mind, “you get the rest when the job is done.” 

“Fuck…” Barry mumbled, looking at all the money that was in there. Yeah, his morals weren’t in the right place, he would convince himself to not work for Fuches or Hank anymore but once one of them showed him the money his mind quickly changed. He looked back up at Fuches, a smile on his face waiting for an answer. “Fine. This is  _ it.” _

“Atta boy!” He wrapped his arms around Barry’s shoulder, leaning his head on him before standing up. “I knew you’d come through for me! My best man!”

Hearing how excited Fuches was getting made Barry regret this immediately. What the fuck was he doing? Why was he doing this now? Goddamn money. Goddammit.

Barry grabbed his phone from the spot it was charging on the bed. He unlocked it, seeing that he had a text from NoHo Hank. He rolled his eyes as he opened it. The text contained all the information on this Isiah Bell guy, including where he was going to be next. From the sounds of it, Hank had already been tracking this guy to the point he had his schedule down, adding that he would text Barry again when he was on the move, providing the address where he’d be. 

Fuck. 

* * *

Eddie didn’t go home that night, he couldn’t now that he finally had his sights on Barry Block. Not when he felt like he was going to find a crack in this case somewhere… surely it all had to do with Barry. Had to be. Since Barry had appeared to be the paranoid type, looking over his shoulders, changing his movements if he feels there could possibly be a slight pattern with someone following him, Eddie had to mix it up a little. He drove to the Beer Garden in his police cruiser, as soon as he was done talking to Barry, he took it back to the station for the night before switching to his unmarked car that he had parked down the street from his workplace, just in case. After switching to the car, Eddie waited outside the bar until Barry left, following him to a hotel, he had slept outside in his car, parked in a spot that nobody leaving the building would notice him, but he would notice them. 

Well, now that Eddie knew what car Barry drove and had his license plate number, it’s not like he had to stick around all day until something happened. Hell, he didn’t know if Barry was still here, for all he knew he could have left while Eddie was out getting food and coffee. Why was he doing this? Why was he wasting time following and waiting out for Barry? Because he may run away? There were plenty of ways that Eddie could go about this at this point, if he thought like Barry was a danger to the public he could legally show his badge to the hotel staff, get what room he was staying in and search his hotel room since he didn’t need a warrant for that.

Something was bound to happen and Eddie would be there to witness and intervene. 

It was almost eight at night when Eddie jerked awake from what little sleep he managed to get in his car. His phone buzzed from the cup holder in the center console of his car, rubbing his sore, tired eyes as he picked up his phone to see what notification he got. It was Detective Mae asking if he was doing okay. He only nodded slightly; Eddie had that issue where he would mentally respond to text messages but never actually responded to them. Never was a good trait, that would always lead Mae to panic thinking he was hurt. With that in mind, Eddie actually did text back, saying that he was fine, he would most likely be heading home soon. 

Eddie looked up out the windshield, he couldn’t believe it when he saw Barry walking out of the hotel, looking over his shoulders as usual before putting his head down and shoving his hands into his black hoodie pocket. Well, alright, maybe Eddie would actually have something going on tonight. Unless… Oh. He was probably just heading to his acting class. That wasn’t going to be too interesting, but why not check it out to be sure? 

He squinted, trying to watch Barry get into his car, but since the sun had set and there was little lighting in the parking lot it was hard to keep track of him. 

_ You’re taking this too far, go home,  _ Eddie thought to himself when he didn’t see a car pulling out of the parking lot.  _ The case is done, why are you still worrying about it? _ Janice. That’s why Eddie was still working with this case, even though it seemed like a dead end he couldn’t let this go. Maybe his emotions were clouding his judgement, maybe he was following an innocent man for no reason. Fuck, yeah, maybe he should just go home. 

Letting out a sigh, Eddie turned his car on, about to pull out of the spot he’s been parked in almost all day to finally go home and text Mae that he was closing the case again. Shit. He pulled his keys out from the car, letting out a deep sigh. Not only was he doing this for Janice, but he was now also doing it for Gene, he couldn’t get that mental image out of his mind of how happy Gene was when he told him that he was opening the case again.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck.  _ He couldn’t hurt him like that, not after getting his hopes up. 

Zoning out of his thoughts, Eddie noticed that Barry’s car was waiting to turn out of the parking lot. No, okay, he had to do this. He had to help Gene and Janice. Rolling over the engine again, Eddie waited to turn on his headlights until Barry’s car made it out to the road so he wouldn’t know he was about to be followed to wherever the hell he was about to go. 

The moment Barry pulled out and was a bit down the road, Eddie waited for two more cars to pass by before turning on his headlights, trailing down the road to follow him. The entire trip, Eddie made sure to stay at two cars length between him and Barry’s car to make sure he wouldn’t freak out, trying to lose him again like he did the other night. Eddie still had no idea  _ how  _ he managed to lose him like that, he was good at that, making him slightly more suspicious of him. If it wasn’t about this case then Barry was obviously hiding  _ something.  _

“Where the fuck are you going…?” Eddie mumbled to himself, as he followed Barry down a rundown old suburban area. He had assumed that Barry was going to his acting class, but this was certainly not the way to get there. Unless maybe he had to pick someone up? 

Within the past few days since he had gotten shot, Eddie had been over thinking nonstop. Almost like his brain couldn’t shut down no matter what he did to try to help it. Years ago Eddie was prescribed anti anxiety medication and they’ve been working the moment he picked them up from the pharmacy to the day he got shot. It felt like his mind was moving faster than his meds could help with, now he had to take two pills or more to calm himself down. Going back to his doctor was certainly on Eddie’s list to increase his dose, but that wouldn’t be for awhile. 

Since they were the only two cars left on the road, Eddie moved from being two cars apart to being a block away from Barry’s car. He saw Barry pull over next to the sidewalk on the right side of the road, so Eddie started to slow his car, pulling over a block away, turning off the headlights. Barry stayed there for awhile, not moving or getting out of the car. 

_ Fuck, did he notice me?  _ Eddie thought, watching closely. He couldn’t tell what he was doing from here, but he wasn’t getting out of the car. Maybe he was waiting for someone? This whole case was tearing Eddie up inside, mentally mostly, well… maybe physically. He was putting more weight and overworking himself when his doctor had told him to take it easy, that he should just do desk work for awhile until they lifted restrictions. 

In his own car, Barry sat back in his seat, letting out a deep sigh with the breath that he’s been holding onto. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the pistol with the suppressor attached in his lap, taking another deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair. 

_ You have to do this, one more job. One more job and you’re done. C’mon, man, you’ve done this plenty of times, it’s no different than any other job.  _ Barry was trying to tell himself ever and anything to get himself to pull through and finish this job up as quickly as possible. 

His phone buzzed from the passenger's seat, Barry quickly picked it up, already guessing that it was going to be a text from Hank. The whole time he was getting ready to head out and the entire time he was driving to the location Hank had been texting him over and over, changing his mind about the job. Whether or not Barry should just kill him or get it over with, or if he should wait until Hank figures out if he’s actually the rat or not. It was incredibly nerve wracking to the point where Barry almost turned his car around to go back home and go back to bed. He’s been waiting around the hotel all day waiting for a definite answer about what Hank wanted him to do. In the end, Barry called him, saying that he was heading out to do the job and Hank agreed… at the time. This particular text was telling Barry that  _ maybe  _ he should hold off on killing him  _ just in case.  _ Barry texted back:  _ No, you had many chances to call this off, I’m doing it.  _ After that, he erased the chat log, looking at the rundown house across the street. 

“Okay…” Barry said quietly to himself, looking down at the gun in his lap, “we’re gonna do this.” He rested his arm against the door, his elbow sticking out of the open window that he forgot to roll up, closing his eyes and scrunching up his face. “I got this, I got this…” 

Letting out one more sigh, Barry opened his eyes, about to look over at the house again until someone jumped out in front of him, causing him to jump in surprise in return. He couldn’t make out the face since there was a gun pointed at him in one of their hands and a flashlight shining in his eyes with their other hand, they were crossed over each other, indicating to Barry that they were a cop. 

“LAPD!” Eddie shouted, looking at Barry who looked extremely confused. He opened his mouth to say something else, something on the lines of  _ suspicious behavior,  _ but he stopped. There was something different about Barry today… the glasses… the glasses in front of Barry’s now wide eyes unlocked something in the back of Eddie’s memory. 

Barry had his hands up to his shoulders to show that he wasn’t a threat to Officer Kaspbrak.  _ Where the fuck did he come from?  _ Had he been following him? Son of a bitch, Barry should’ve guessed that by the car that was going the same way down this suburban road. It would’ve been rare to have someone go the same way as him. Fuck. 

Derry, Maine. Of course they grew up in the same small town.  _ That’s  _ where Eddie knew him from. Barry… those blue eyes, those stupid fucking glasses. He was his best friend back in Derry and nobody could tell Eddie otherwise. 

“Richie?” Eddie finally asked, lowering his gun only slightly so he could get a better look at Barry’s face. 

It was Barry’s turn to have a confused look on his face. Officer Kaspbrak knew that his name was Barry, why was he calling him Richie? Barry didn’t even know anyone named Richie… Did he? No…. 

“What?” Barry looked away from Officer Kaspbrak, his eyebrows knitted together as he was trying to pull the name from his memory bank. Yeah… the more he thought about the name the more it was coming back to him. 

While Barry was distracted, Eddie reached in, grabbing the pistol that was still in Barry’s lap that he noticed right away when confronting him. 

“Richie, what the fuck are you doin’, man?” Eddie continued, sounding less like a police officer and more like a concerned friend. 

“I think…” Barry looked back up at Officer Kaspbrak, his hands still up, “I think you’re confusing me with someone else,” he finished up slowly, still in midthought. He noticed that Officer Kaspbrak had relaxed a little more, no longer pointing the pistol and flashlight at him. 

“Richie Tozier?” Eddie started, trying to help job Barry’s memory, “Trashmouth? The Losers Club? The blood oath?” Eddie held out his left hand to Barry, showing him the long, straight scar that ran across the palm of his hand that everyone in their old friend group did to symbolize their everlasting friendship. 

_ Wait, he remembered that…  _ Barry looked down at his own left palm, he had the exact same scar there. They… yeah. They all stood in a circle after slitting the palms of their hands, all… seven? Were there seven of them? Yeah. All seven of them slit their palms open, standing in a circle holding hands, agreeing that they would be friends forever. 

A sudden wave of anger washed over Barry, he was shaking, he needed to punch something. Not Officer Kaspbrak, he actually didn’t do anything wrong besides unlock an entire childhood that Barry had forgotten about. Most of it was fuzzy, he knew someone named Richie, but couldn’t place a face to the name, but he knew him from Derry. Had to be, right? His name was Barry Berkman, he was in the Marines, and he… he was a hitman. 

He looked at the steering wheel, lowering his hand as tears were threatening to leave Barry’s eyes, but he blinked them away. “I think you should go, Eddie,” Barry said in a calm voice that sent a chill through Eddie’s spine, talking to him as if they knew each other for years and he was warning him about something. 

“Man, what are you doing out here?” Eddie continued, still convinced that Barry was this Richie person, “I seriously thought you were gonna-” Eddie stopped, remembering the weapon that he had pulled from Barry’s car, still in his hand. 

Barry looked up at Officer Kaspbrak with a sad, pleading look in his eyes, as if he was telling him that he should leave. “Thought I was gonna what?” 

“Why do you have a gun?” 

“I can’t…” Barry started, huffing out a sigh as he didn’t know what to say to convince him to let him go, make him forget tonight ever happened. What was he gonna say  _ I can’t tell you, please believe me when I say it’s nothing?  _ “It’s… I’m…” 

“Richie.”

Barry closed his eyes tight, his face scrunching up again in frustration. “My name’s not Richie.” He let out a sigh, opening his eyes, staring out of the windshield. 

“What happened?” 

“What?” 

“You just… left one day. You didn’t tell any of us where you were going.” 

Barry started breathing heavily, obviously getting more and more frustrated with more things he was starting to remember. He jerked his arms up towards his head, he wanted to pull out his hair and scream to get this anger out, but not now. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Talk about what? Barry had no idea what he didn’t want to talk about. 

Eddie’s mind was everywhere. He wanted to know why Richie left out of the blue, but at the same time he knew he had to focus on whatever was going on here. 

“Why are you here with a gun? Tell me.” Eddie was trying to sound threatening, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything against Richie, not when this was the first time seeing him after all these years. 

“I can’t fucking tell you!” He shot a glare up to the officer, his face twisted in anger. “Just get out of here, Eds!” He finally snapped, causing both men to shut up. Barry’s face dropped, something about that nickname clicked, like he’s said it  _ a lot  _ before. “Please…” he added quietly, “just go.” 

“What are you doing here, Rich?” He tried one more time. 

Barry let out another sigh. “My name’s Barry Berkman, alright? I… don’t want you to get hurt, Eds.” 

Eddie looked hurt, like, shot through the chest kinda hurt. How could his best friend in the whole world not recognize him? It hurt. 

“Richie used to call me Eds… just…” Eddie tossed the pistol with the suppressor into Barry’s car, it landed into the passenger's seat, causing Barry to flinch, “just get out of here, Rich- Barry. I didn’t even see you tonight.” 

Before Barry could open his mouth to speak, Eddie turned on his heels to go back to his car. He couldn’t help but sadly watch through his sideview mirror as Eddie walked back to his car that Barry just now noticed about a block back. Oh, yeah, he saw that car a couple of times while coming here, how did he not make the connection that Eddie had been following him? 

Barry rolled up his window, he couldn’t keep his anger bottled up anymore. His emotions were so bad, he couldn’t even keep it together during a conversation before they got the better of him. 

He balled up his fists, shaking as he held them in front of his face with his eyes squeezed tight again, trying to regain some type of control over himself before he ended up getting out of his car to smash it, then Officer Kaspbrak would have to arrest him with disturbing the peace or some shit.  _ Calm down, it’s not that bad, if he wanted to arrest you he would’ve,  _ Barry tried telling himself, trying to reason with himself so he would stop. Barry started rocking back and forth as his entire body now started to shake, his eyes still closed as he tangled his fingers tightly through his hair, he didn’t even notice he had been picking at his skin until he could feel a small trickle of blood running down his hand down to his lap. 

Opening his eyes, Barry moved his hands to the front of his face, staring at his shaking hands. Fuck. His face twitched from frustration and anger, he couldn’t keep this bottled up anymore. Balling his hands up into tight fists until his knuckles turned white, Barry started slamming his fists against the poor steering wheel, screaming and yelling as he did to release that anger  _ somehow.  _ Yes, he understood that this was a poor way to do it, he knew that everytime, this is how he broke down, but it was the only way that worked for him. Yoga and meditation didn’t do shit for him. 

The burning sensation was back in Barry’s eyes, feeling the tears that threatened to fall once again. Barry always had to urge to cry whenever he got this angry, but he would never let it out. He only cried when he was angry once when he was seventeen, it was during an argument between him and Fuches, an argument that he couldn’t remember now, but as soon as he started crying Fuches just laughed at him. Telling him that only bitches cried before shoving him hard enough that he fell backwards to the hardwood floor. The only thing Barry could do in that situation was wipe the tears away, trying to prevent them from falling even more as Fuches had started mocking him and talking down to him about it.  _ Just fucking forget about that place, Barry, it’s behind you now. This is your new life now, fucking deal with it.  _ The words from that argument still burned in Barry’s mind until his stomach started to turn. 

Quickly, Barry opened his car door, leaning his head out just as he began to puke from the anxiety he was suddenly feeling deep in his chest. Yes, Barry had experienced anxiety before, he has a lot recently, in fact, but it never got this bad that he actually  _ puked.  _ Wiping his mouth, Barry got back in the car, closing the door and making sure it was locked. He waited until the car lights turned off automatically once sensing all the doors were closed before finally letting the tears fall, silently sobbing. Today’s been a ride for him, he hasn’t cried this much since… the incident with his friend, and it was seriously overwhelming him. The name Richie was overwhelming him. God, even Officer Kaspbrak was starting to overwhelm him. 

The throbbing, aching feeling in his hands snapped Barry out of whatever trance he was in. Certainly he was going to have a couple of bruises in the morning, he had lost it and blacked out while beating the steering wheel so he had no idea how hard he was actually hitting it. Fuck. Taking a deep breath, Barry placed his shaking hands on the steering wheel gently, wrapping his fingers around it to ground himself. That was something he remembered at that time at the hospital, the one coping skill that he kept all this time, when he was coming down from an episode he would use the grounding method to calm himself down, to remind him where he was and that he was going to be okay. He turned the key, rolling over the engine, his glasses lense were stained with tears, but Barry didn’t care about that right now, he put his car into gear, checking the side view mirror once more, somewhat hoping that Eddie was still there so he could go to him for help, but the car was gone. 

Feeling exhausted all of a sudden, Barry wanted to go back to the hotel room, to pass out on the pull out bed, but he wasn’t ready to face Fuches right now. He didn’t finish the job. Eh, he would use the excuse that Hank kept changing his mind and Barry would just say that he didn’t want to do the job until he made up his mind 100%. No, Barry decided that he was going to drive around a bit, to clear his mind otherwise he may break down in front of Fuches and he didn’t want that. That was a sure way for someone to find Officer Kaspbrak dead in a ditch. 

Tonight never even happened. 


	7. Only a Job, Right?

Driving back to the apartment was somehow hard for Eddie, his eyes kept burning like he wanted to cry. God, why did he want to fucking cry? Maybe he did actually mistaken Barry for Richie, maybe he wanted to find his childhood best friend so badly that he was ready to think he was right in front of him. Richie left Derry out of the blue one day when he was sixteen, he didn’t tell anybody he was leaving, not even Beverly, who was basically like his sister. That was really the only thing he remembered about living in Derry, everything else was a blur, like it was a dream that he could barely grasp to remember. 

Tonight certainly did open some old wounds; it took years for Eddie to get over Richie. He used to stay up late every night crying silently into his pillow, wondering what went wrong, that maybe he wasn’t happy here anymore and that’s why he left. That… maybe he didn’t make him happy. Those first few nights after Richie left were the worst since he would use to climb in through Eddie’s window at night and they’d just lay in bed together talking quietly to not wake Eddie’s mom, they’d talk about any and everything. Life, how their day went, shit that’s been going on, that kinda stuff while laying next to each other with their hands behind their heads, staring up at the ceiling until they fell asleep. Sometimes Richie would curl up next to him, holding onto him in his sleep while Eddie was just about to pass out. It was sweet, and as much as Eddie wanted to wrap his arms around him and bring him in closer to cuddle with him he stopped himself, assuming that Richie was just doing it in his sleep and didn’t actually mean it. 

_ Just close the case, Eddie, just close the fucking case,  _ he kept repeating to himself over and over, as if that was going to make him change his mind about it. No, he wasn’t actually going to close it, but tonight was extremely upsetting for him. He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t think of quitting his job right then and there, he knew he couldn’t do that though, he needed this job, and how petty would that be? Quitting a job you’ve been in for years just because you  _ thought  _ you saw your best friend after all these years? Eddie shook that thought away, knowing that he couldn’t do that no matter what. 

Eddie was slightly shocked when he snapped out of his thoughts to find himself sitting in the parking lot of his apartment complex. He couldn’t really remember anything from point A to point B, all that mattered was that Eddie somehow got home safely. He stared outside the windshield, trying to gather himself so he could force himself to get inside his apartment so he could forget this entire night. 

Bouncing his leg and chewing on the inside of his cheek, Eddie looked down at the center console of the car.  _ That couldn’t have been Richie, there was no way… _ he thought before pulling his wallet out from his front pocket. From behind his ID he pulled out a folded up, wrinkled old photo from his childhood. It was of him and the rest of the Losers Club from the early 90’s; in the picture, Richie had his arm wrapped around Eddie’s neck, a huge smile on his face while Eddie playfully looked grumpy when really all he wanted to do was smile. The photo made Eddie smile, he certainly did miss them so much. 

Letting out a shaky sigh and clutching the picture tight, Eddie finally let some of his tears fall. He knew that it wouldn’t be healthy if he kept these feelings bottled up, as he learned that the hard way back all those years ago. When Richie left he refused to talk about it, it even got to the point where he refused to cry about it, somehow blaming Richie for him leaving, saying that it was his own problem, that Eddie didn’t do anything wrong, but all of that just made Eddie irrationally angry all the time. It wasn’t until he went to therapy to learn to let go of all his emotions; his therapist suggested that maybe it wasn’t Richie’s fault, that perhaps he had something going on that he didn’t tell anyone, and she made sure Eddie knew that it certainly wasn’t his own fault that Richie left. 

Like a zombie, Eddie pulled himself out of his car, shuffling his way up to his apartment unit, feeling numb emotionally and even physically. He was on autopilot the whole way, using the stairwell to head up to the third floor. The whole time the only thing that was on his mind were sudden memories of his childhood that were flooding back to him out of nowhere. 

* * *

_ Sixteen-year-old Eddie Kaspbrak had biked to Richie’s house, they had agreed the night before that he would come over to hang out since Richie had to sneak out of Eddie’s room earlier than usual the night before since Eddie’s mom was trying to come into his locked room. Some stupid bullshit about how he didn’t clean the dishes, so she had assumed that he was sick again and told him that he would be staying in bed for the rest of the weekend. Eddie had been in that rebellious phase of his life, saying that he wasn’t sick and was going to go out. Sonia had been taken aback by his sudden behavior, but didn’t stop him when he left to go see Richie, God, did she hate that loud boy…  _

_ Eddie dropped his bike in the usual spot in Richie’s front yard, walking up to the front door while fidgeting with his hands suddenly feeling nervous. Hm… there was a car that Eddie didn’t recognize in Richie’s driveway. Maybe he had people over? Should Eddie leave and come back later? Nah, why would Richie invite him over if he knew people were going to come over?  _

_ He knocked on the door, hoping it would be Richie who would open the door, as he wasn’t good around people he didn’t know, especially if it was an extended family member of a friend he’s never met before. The door had swung open, startling Eddie of how aggressive it was. Richie was standing on the other side, not looking too happy, like he was in an argument with someone based on how red his face was.  _

_ “Hey, Rich-” Eddie couldn’t even finish his sentence before Richie grabbed his wrist, dragging him behind him as he left the house.  _

_ “Where ya goin’, Rich Rich?!” Eddie could hear an unknown voice from inside the house. _

_ Eddie’s eyebrows knitted together at that, wondering what was going on before he got there.  _

_ “Do you want me to come back later?” _

_ “No!” Richie said almost too quickly, letting go of Eddie’s wrist as they approached his car that was next to the unknown car, “no… I just…” he shook his head as he trailed off, getting into the drivers side, slamming the door behind him.  _

_ “I can-”  _

_ “Don’t leave,” Richie said quietly, something unusual for him as he was usually so noisy and vocal.  _

_ “You okay, man?” Eddie asked, putting the seat belt on.  _

_ “Yeah, I’m…. I’m fine,” he hesitated, putting the keys in the car, “I’m just tired.” He looked over at Eddie, giving him a small smile, but Eddie could tell it was extremely forced.  _

_ Richie backed out of the driveway, glaring at someone through the window of his living room that Eddie couldn’t make out, but he didn’t look happy. He flipped whoever it was off before speeding down the road, not saying anything to Eddie, even though it was clear he was in distress.  _

_ “What’s goin’ on?”  _

_ “Just… bullshit, man.” Richie gave a small laugh, taking a cigarette from his center console, stopping at the stop sign so he could light it. He made sure to roll down the windows so Eddie wouldn’t choke from the smoke from his asthma. “Family.”  _

_ “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”  _

_ “My… uncle’s in town. He’s an asshole, dude.” _

* * *

Eddie’s eyes snapped open, hot water falling over him in the shower he didn’t remember getting into, as he was too lost in thought. He was using his arms as support as he was leaning against the front wall of the shower, the memory suddenly made him exhausted, like it took everything from him mentally to remember it. He put a hand on his head, feeling a headache coming on and wasn’t ready to deal with that. There was so much he needed to process about what happened tonight, so much has happened, so many emotions. Goddammit…. He let the shower wash away the tears running down his face, he needed to let out these emotions, even if it was in the shower and kinda had to force it. 

The evidence was all there… that Barry was a fucking killer, whether or not he killed Janice, he was still there to do something mallcious, it was clear with the pistol with the supperssor. Fuck, why didn’t he arrest him? He could’ve done so right there with everything piling up against him, the gun…  _ that goddamn gun.  _ Eddie was kicking himself for letting him go, and for what reason? Because he  _ thought  _ Barry looked like Richie Tozier? How would he explain this if Barry did commit a crime? Would he lose his job? Shit. 

Burying his face in his hands, Eddie let out a frustrated scream. That seemed to have helped the rage that was quickly starting to build up in his chest, he pinched the bridge of his nose while letting out a sigh. What could he do about this now? As much as he wanted to forget about Barry, he couldn’t now, especially since he found him with a gun. 

Remembering the look in Barry’s eyes after Eddie called him Richie… being called Eds after all these years… That was something only Richie called him, nobody else, not even the others in the Losers Club called him that.  _ Now  _ Eddie was just reaching, it wasn’t a hard nickname to come up with, he could’ve just made it up on the spot. 

Getting out of the shower, Eddie put on a pair of shorts, keeping a towel wrapped around his shoulders as he headed into the kitchen, sitting at the small table that was kept in the corner. He let out a sigh, resting his hand on his forehead as he looked down at the file he threw down when he got home. Eddie popped a couple of painkillers, feeling the pain crawl up his leg as he looked through the notes within the file for the hundredth time. Squeezing his eyes tight, Eddie slammed his fist on the table over the notes in the file. Why was he doing this? This was literally going nowhere and he needed to give up. 

Opening his eyes again, he instantly looked over at the cabin keys that Gene had given him the night before. He never noticed the heart keychain that was attached to it. With a small, sad smile on his face, Eddie reached out and grabbed it, twirling the heart in between his fingers. On the other side of they keychain there was a small picture of Gene and Janice at a restaurant with Gene’s arm wrapped around her as they were both smiling. How sweet… 

Eddie knew exactly how to go about this case now. 

* * *

To clear his head, Barry had drove around for about an hour after the confrontation with Eddie. Richie Tozier. He knew a Richie Tozier, right? The name felt close to Barry, like he was a childhood friend or something. Back in Derry, yeah. Had to be. There was no other explanation for it. 

_ Richie used to call me Eds…  _ Something about that made Barry think, think, and overthink. Yeah, okay, maybe they were all in the same age group and Barry picked it up from him. Perfect, yeah, that had to be it. 

Barry couldn’t help it when he slammed the door of the hotel room behind him, startling Fuches who was laying on his pull out bed playing a video game. He looked up at him with a confused look on his face, as he was not at all expecting that. 

“You okay?” Fuches asked him, sounding sincere, but whether or not he was was beyond Barry. He was too far into his rage to actually care. 

If it could be physically possible, steam would be coming out from Barry’s ears from how angry he was. He stomped over to Fuches, grabbing him by his collar, and yanked him to his feet. The controller fell from Fuches’ hand as Barry pushed him up against the wall with a thud, causing the picture frames to jump from the force. 

“What the fuck is-” 

“Who the fuck is Richie Tozier?!” Barry demanded before Fuches could speak his demand, digging his knuckles further into his uncle's throat. 

It was obvious that Fuches was getting nervous, as he squeezed his hands up in front of him in case Barry tried punching him. It’s been years… how could Barry even remember the name Richie Tozier? Fuches had been certain that Barry lost all memory of  _ that.  _ All of that… for nothing. 

“W-w-what are you talkin’ about, Barry?” Fuches stammered, a scared smile on his face, the smile Barry knew all too well. The same one he had whenever he was trying to get himself out of a situation but it wasn’t going well. The smile quickly dropped. “And I thought I told you to take those glasses off.” 

Barry was breathing heavily now, clearly not in the mood for his goddamn games. “Who. Is. Richie. Tozier?” He asked again in a slow tone in case Fuches was choosing not to hear him. In all honesty? It freaked Fuches out. 

“It… it…” he paused, trying to figure out what to say to get Barry to believe him, “it was a long time ago, Barry.”

“Who is he?” 

“It… was a hit.” It was an obvious lie. 

Barry knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with this, so he backed off, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket. He glared at Fuches, who was still pressed against the wall in fear before he took out his phone to read the text he just got in. It was Hank. Fuck, of course it was. Barry literally forgot about the job he was supposed to do up until this moment. Shit. 

_ Couldn’t help but notice job isn’t done yet >:(  _

Letting out a sigh, Barry texted him back, saying that something came up as he was about to do it, to just keep an eye on the rat and he would get it done ASAP. 

“So….” Fuches asked, trying to brighten the mood, a stupid smile on his face, “how’d the job gooo?” 

“Fuck you.” 


	8. Puzzle Pieces

“And where are you going?” Fuches asked Barry early the next morning, hands on his hips acting as though he was Barry’s mother. 

“Out,” was all Barry said as he was scrambling around looking for his keys that he swore up and down that he left them on the small table that was next to the hotel room door. Goddammit, why could he never find anything, he always had to lose  _ something.  _ “Do you have my keys? I had them here,” he motioned towards the spot where he thought he placed them.

“No. You just always lose shit, don’t blame me for it,” Fuches answered, rolling his eyes as he plopped down on his own bed. 

“I’m not…” Barry let out a heavy sigh, squeezing his eyes tight for a moment to keep himself calm. No matter what tone of voice he used Fuches always claimed that he was yelling at him, each time it set Barry off. Slowly, he let out his breath, opening his eyes. “I’m not blaming you… I just can’t…” he trailed off, looking around on the floor. 

“I’m telling you, I’m sure you have the ADHD,” Fuches said lazily as he scrolled through his phone mindlessly. 

Barry rolled his eyes, ironic that Fuches was telling him what he thought he had when he wouldn’t believe him whenever he said he was feeling depressed. The only thing Fuches had to say to that was  _ ‘oh, you know what’ll help? Finishing that job. Get to it.’  _ It was, however, something that Barry didn’t really think about before, all he knew was that he felt depressed almost all the time, but whenever he went to his acting class the depression subsided for the night, but always came back just as bad the following morning. It wasn’t like Barry didn’t ever think to seek treatment for possible mental illness, it’s just whenever he brought up to Fuches he told him don’t even bother with it, they had more important things to do than to help him. So what was the point of Fuches bringing up the fact that  _ maybe  _ Barry had ADHD if he wouldn’t let him go get it treated?

“I don’t have ADHD,” Barry mumbled. 

Fuches snorted, looking up from his phone. “That’s your professional opinion?” 

“Like you have room to talk.” 

“Barry…” He turned to face Fuches to see what he wanted. All Fuches did was point at the end table next to Barry’s pull out bed in the living room where his keys were sitting. “You’re an idiot.” 

Barry knew that Fuches didn’t usually mean it whenever he called him an idiot, but when he did it hurt Barry a bit. He liked to think he was pretty smart, maybe he didn’t make the best choices in the world, but he surely wasn’t an idiot. Just because Barry was good at his job didn’t make him a mindless murderer. Fuck him. 

Snatching the keys from the table, Barry glared at him, wanting to say something to defend himself but nothing was going to mind as a comeback. He used to be great at comebacks when he was a kid, but all of it seemed to slip his mind. 

“You never told me where you were going,” Fuches called after Barry as he slipped his backpack over his shoulder getting ready to leave. 

“You’re right, I didn’t tell you.” 

“Going to work on that job Hank gave you, right?” 

“Nope.”

With that, Barry left the hotel room, slamming the door behind him. 

It wasn’t uncommon for Barry to have issues falling asleep at night, he was used to tossing and turning until it was almost six in the morning. Everytime he closed his eyes to fall asleep he had flashbacks of a couple of different scenarios; his time in the Marines was a big one, but lately his dreams were about Janice, how he didn’t want to kill her but had to once she discovered who he really was and what he did, and once in a while he would think about the faces of the people he killed. Of course, he didn’t remember any of their goddamn names, but he could clearly see their faces and how he ended up killing them; especially if it was a more personal kill with his bare hands rather than a gun. Last night was different though, Barry didn’t dream from what he could remember; all he could recall was his usual tossing and turning, his heart and mind heavy as if he was grieving for something. There were memories from the back of his mind scratching and begging for Barry to remember, what could be so special about these memories anyways? 

Honestly? Barry had no idea where he wanted to go, all he knew was that he wanted to get away from Fuches and the hotel. Something about how Fuches explained who Richie Tozier was to him really rubbed him the wrong way. It was obvious he was lying, god, Fuches was a horrible liar and everyone knew that, so why not just tell Barry the truth? Right, because he didn’t want to admit to what he did… He never wanted to take responsibility for what he did. 

Sitting in his car, Barry stared out the windshield, trying to snap himself out of the memory of the night before.  _ Richie Tozier.  _ Why did it seem like every time Barry had a run in with Officer Kaspbrak something in the back of his mind wanted to be free? There was a connection between them obviously. Looking down at the center console, Barry noticed the card that was sitting in the cupholder. Twirling the card between his fingers, Barry was lost in thought again, tapping the card against his chin occasionally. 

Fuches wasn’t going to tell him the truth, that was clear, but maybe there was someone who could shine some light on what was going on. Printed on the card on the opposite side of where Officer Kaspbrak had his name and badge number printed showed the address and phone number of the precinct where he worked at. Oh yeah, Barry knew where that was, but… would it be worth it to go see Officer Kaspbrak? Maybe if he saw Barry again he would change his mind from last night and arrest him for having a gun and suspicious behavior. Wait, could he do that? Doesn’t matter, Barry wasn’t sure if he would even want to see him anyways. Whatever, more than anything Barry wanted to figure out what was going on; he wanted to know why Officer Kaspbrak thought his name was Richie Tozier; he wanted to know why Fuches was lying to him more so than usual; dammit, he just wanted to go to his acting class tonight and forget about all of this since that was the only thing that seemed to help him through these tough mental blocks. 

Putting the car in drive, Barry pulled out of the hotel parking lot, making his way to the precinct. Barry’s heart felt heavy, he didn’t know what to expect when he got there and… Oh shit, what if Officer Kaspbrak wasn’t even working today? Maybe walking in and asking if he was there wouldn’t be the best idea, especially if Officer Kaspbrak decided to have him arrested. Talk about awkward. 

Barry had convinced himself that it would be okay on the way there, that maybe Officer Kaspbrak would be willing to just sit down and talk with him. He was feeling confident in himself, he had almost everything he wanted to say in his head, he had a strong feeling he knew how the entire conversation was going to go down and he was prepared for this.  _ Or so he thought.  _

The moment Barry pulled up across the street of the precinct any and all confidence he had flown out the window. His heart was slamming against his chest, Barry didn’t even notice that he was heavily picking at the skin on his fingers again until he was bleeding. 

_ Just go in, talk to him for a minute, then you can leave, _ Barry thought to himself, staring at the building across the street, rocking back and forth slightly from the anxiety.  _ No… I’m not doing this, this was an awful idea.  _ He was about to put his car back into drive and go back to the hotel so he could prepare for the job that Hank gave him. 

Oh, wait… he had a better idea. Barry dug his hand in his front pocket, struggling to pull out his cell-phone. If he couldn’t get himself to go inside, then the second best thing he could do was attempt to call the number that was on the card. 

Punching the numbers into the keypad wasn’t the hard part, it was listening to the phone ring and waiting for someone to hopefully pick up that made calling so difficult. Hopefully Officer Kaspbrak won’t pick up, but… at the same time if he didn’t Barry would panic since he just wanted to ask him some questions that was driving him crazy. 

The phone rang about three or four times before Officer Kaspbrak picked up. 

_ “LAPD, this is Officer Kaspbrak, _ ” he answered quickly, leaving Barry speechless. He didn’t know what to say now, as he was expecting/hoping that Officer Kaspbrak wasn’t going to answer. “... _ Hello…?”  _ Officer Kaspbrak repeated, confused and concerned that somebody called him specifically but wasn’t saying anything. 

With Barry’s heart pounding against his chest, he was almost having issues hearing him.

“Um…” Barry started, his voice shaking as he rubbed his face, “Hey, Eddie…” was all he could bring himself to say, hopefully Officer Kaspbrak could figure out who was calling him, giving himself some more time to figure out what he wanted to say. 

Eddie was now also speechless, he wasn’t expecting Barry to call him, especially since their confrontation from last night. He was willing to let it go, as much as knew he shouldn’t have, to make sure the person he thought was Richie wouldn’t get in trouble. Why was Barry calling him? To taunt him? That would be so fucking low if that was the case. No… no, it wasn’t his job to assume what Barry was calling about… 

_ “Hi, Barry. What can I do for you?” _ He asked, holding his tongue so he didn’t say anything he would later regret. 

“Can I… talk to you about some things? How busy are you right now?” 

_ “I’m working right now, Barry.”  _

“I know, I know… I’m… I’m sorry…” Barry suddenly felt embarassed and stupid for asking, like he should’ve known that Eddie was busy and shouldn’t have bothered him in the first place. He scrunched up his face in frustration, wanting to smack himself in the face for being such an idiot. 

Eddie was silent for a few seconds, trying to think of what he needed to do. Should he talk to Barry? He could just write it off as a tip of the case he was working about Janice’s death so he wouldn’t get yelled at by his higher ups. 

_ “Um…” _ Eddie sighed, a pen tapping against a surface in the background, “ _ I can meet you in five minutes. Where do you-”  _

“I’m outside,” Barry said quickly, accidentally cutting Eddie off. 

_ “Give me five minutes.”  _

* * *

Eddie hung up the phone, accidentally putting the phone down on the receiver a little harder than he meant to, hoping that it wasn’t obvious to Barry on his end of the line. He let out a long sigh, burying his face in his hands as he shook his head. This was a joke, right? This had to be a goddamn joke… Why in the hell would Barry call him after what happened last night? What? Was he going to say that it was all a misunderstanding? Bullshit. 

Since Eddie didn’t know what exactly Barry wanted, he opened his desk drawer to take out the file he’s been carrying around for almost a week and his small notebook, putting it in his front pocket. Would he actually need them? Who knows, but he wanted to have everything just in case. Or, at least, give him an excuse to leave the office. 

Eddie needed to use his desk to stand up from his computer chair, the pain in his foot coming back again. He scrunched up his face in pain, gripping at his left leg as if that was going to help a damn thing, unfortunately he already took his dose of painkillers for the morning, Eddie wouldn’t take more than the instructions printed on the bottle. He was very particular with his medications, worried that if he took too much he would get sick or accidentally OD. Was that an overreaction? Most likely, but Eddie couldn’t exactly remember why he was like this, he was just… so worried about his health all the time. So when he was in the hospital after getting shot in the foot he was worried 24/7 about getting an infection and may end up losing his foot. 

“I’m heading out!” Eddie called to Detective Mae, who was sitting in her cubicle, as he began to limp down the aisle. 

“Where are you off to?” She called back, typing away at her keyboard, filling out a report that came in earlier in the day. 

“I’m… going to talk to someone about the case I’m working on.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t 100% the truth either. She didn’t need to worry about where he was going anyways, all she needed to know that he was leaving the building. 

Detective Mae didn’t even look up from her screen, she just nodded in response. Well, that was easier than Eddie had expected it to be, he had been preparing himself to make a whole thing to explain who he was seeing and where he was going. As Eddie began limping towards the front doors he was confused why he thought he needed to lie to Mae, it wasn’t like she could stop him anyways. The feeling Eddie was experiencing was the same one he felt whenever Richie had sneaked in through his bedroom window to hang out with him in the middle of the night while Eddie’s mom was sleeping in the room next door to his. Excitement, joy, but also worried about what would happen if they were both caught. 

Stepping outside, Eddie glanced around looking for Barry. Guess he should’ve asked if he was waiting outside or if he was in a car or something before hanging up. Eddie thought about going back inside to see what number Barry called him from to give him a call back, until he spotted that old, crappy, beat up car. Yeah, that was certainly Barry’s car. He could see Barry sitting in the front seat, looking at something in his lap, which Eddie would be a liar if he said that didn’t make him a bit paranoid. Remembering the gun he pulled out of Barry’s car from the night before made Eddie realize that meeting up with Barry would be a somewhat stupid move, but then again, they were in front of the precint, so if he did do anything he would be arrested immediately. 

Letting out a sigh, Eddie looked both ways before making his way across the street over to Barry’s car. He had to tap on the drivers side window to get Barry’s attention, who jumped in response, as he wasn’t expecting that. Barry’s eyes were wide behind his glasses as he rolled down his window. 

“Hey…” Barry said awkwardly, not sure what he wanted to talk about anymore. Maybe he just wanted the comfort of being around someone who seemed to know more about his childhood than he did. 

“I need to check your car before I get in,” Eddie said, leaning against the drivers side door, rubbing his chin, “probable cause search,” he explained so Barry knew why he was going to search his car. Eddie needed to be sure that there wasn’t going to be anything in the car that could be used to hurt or kill him. 

Barry only nodded, totally understanding where Eddie was coming from. He hadn’t planned, hell, he didn’t even have a thought of hurting Eddie in anyway… well… besides when he had shot him in the foot that one time. To be fair though, that was before Barry felt a connection with him. 

He got out of the car, leaving the door open so Eddie could do whatever search he needed to do. Eddie moved around Barry so he could look in the backseat, making sure there wasn’t anything hidden underneath the seats before sitting in the driver's seat to look in the center console and glove compartment. He couldn’t find anything, but that wasn’t good enough for Eddie. 

“Have any weapons in the car?” He asked him, feeling under the driver's seat and the passenger's seat. 

“Um…” Barry hesitated to answer, almost ready to lie, but that probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Especially since Eddie was technically on duty, so it would be against the law to lie to a police officer. Lying to him would be worse since a weapon was currently involved. “Under the steering wheel,” he admitted. 

Eddie gave him a weird look as he felt around underneath the steering wheel, feeling exactly where the gun was placed. When he pulled it out it was revealed to be the same gun from last night minus the suppressor. 

“I wasn’t… going to hurt you with it,” Barry quickly clarified, his hands shoved into his pockets with a small awkward smile on his face. 

“No, I know, but I’m gonna throw it in the trunk.” Barry nodded as Eddie popped the trunk opened, getting out of the driver’s seat. 

Barry got back in the car, closing the door behind him. It wasn’t long before he felt the trunk being slammed shut. He began bouncing his leg nervously, picking at the skin on his hands as the passenger’s side door opened. Actually having Eddie in the car with him made all the nervousness from the drive there seem like it was nothing. It felt as though Barry was actually going to puke again from the anxiety, that’s never happened to him before since last night. Feeling Eddie’s eyes on him made it all worse. 

“Eddie… Who’s Richie?” Barry decided to rip the band-aid off. That’s what he wanted to talk about, right? He wanted to get to the bottom of this; why Eddie thought he was Richie and why Fuches wanted to clearly bullshit him with his horribly put together lies. It felt like his mind was being pulled in two opposite directions, being torn of who he should believe. When he finally looked at Eddie, the officer had a confused look on his face, as if he didn’t understand the question that was asked of him. “My uncle said… it was a hit job..”

“It was a  _ what?”  _

“...Nothing.” 

_ Whoops… He didn’t mean to say that.  _

Thinking what Barry said was a joke, Eddie just chuckled, shaking his head. 

“I want to show you something, Barry.” 

“Okay…” Barry said, watching cautiously as Eddie reached into his front pocket, fishing something out. 

Eddie pulled out his wallet, and Barry couldn’t figure out what the fuck he was doing. He pulled out what appeared to be an old picture from behind his ID. He didn’t say anything, he just handed the old photo over to Barry, who carefully took it. Knitting his eyebrows together, Barry  _ knew  _ he recognized the kids in this photo. When he flipped it over, written in pen in sloppy handwriting it read:  _ Losers Club.  _ Flipping it back around, Barry studied the seven kids in the picture, all smiling, squished together with huge smiles on their faces, minus the shortest boy who looked grumpy about the kid with glasses who had his arm wrapped around his neck. Wait…

“That’s… me….” It almost sounded like a question, pointing to the kid with long curly brown hair and glasses. “Wait… I remember this picture.” 

Eddie was ecstatic that Barry could remember and recognize the picture. It certainly was a step in the right direction. 

“Yeah, that’s you,” Eddie agreed, a small smile on his face, “that’s Richie. Man, what happened to you? It’s like you vanished at 16 without telling anyone where you were going.” 

“My… Uncle Fuches took me to Ohio,” Barry started, handing the picture back to Eddie who put it back in his wallet, “I joined the Marines and when I got back I…” Barry paused, scared he was going to say too much. He felt like he already did, and even though he could remember being friends with Eddie it was different now, he was a cop and Barry was… a murderer. 

Eddie could tell that Barry was anxious, he didn’t want him to feel scared to talk to him, especially since he was seeing and talking to his best friend after all these years. All Eddie wanted from Barry was to be real with him. 

“Look… look, man,” Eddie said finally, gustered to himself, “ignore the police uniform, okay? We were best friends, right?” Barry nodded. “I’ve been worried for years about what happened to you, we were all worried. What happened?” 

As much as Barry wanted to spill everything that happened from the time he was taken to Ohio to this point in his life, he felt like that wouldn’t be a good idea. He couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at Eddie, suddenly feeling extremely paranoid, like this was a set up.

“Are you wearing a wire?” Barry blurted out. 

“What? No?” The question sent a chill through Eddie’s spine, that had to mean Barry was about to spill some serious shit. Whatever Barry admitted to him he  _ had  _ to keep it between them, yeah, he could use it against him, but Eddie never went back on his word. 

Barry knew it would be stupid to just trust Eddie when he said he didn’t have a wire, but… every ounce of common sense just flew out the window. There was a sense of reassurance that washed over Barry, not having that feeling of comfort in years, of course Barry was going to assume it would be okay to follow. Besides, Eddie used to be his best friend, and best friends tell each other everything, right? 

“Why are you doing that?” Eddie asked, grabbing Barry’s arm to pull him away from picking at his skin that had started to bleed. That snapped Barry out of his thoughts. 

“What?” 

“That. Why are you doing that?” 

“Oh… I dunno…” Barry balled his bleeding left hand into a fist, covering it with his right hand. 

“Well… quit it…” Eddie pulled out some band-aids from his front pocket, removing them from the sterile wrappings. “You’ll get scars on your hands.” He reached over, taking Barry’s left hand, putting the first band-aid over one of the open wounds. “So, what happened?” 

“Um…” Barry watched as Eddie removed another band-aid from the wrapper. “ My Uncle Fuches met up with me when I got out of the Marines,” he had started but instantly stopped, not sure how else to say the rest of this… “When… when I got out… he, uh… I worked as a…” he closed his eyes for a second, letting out a sigh, “I was a hitman for him back in Ohio. We came over here for a job, and I…” Barry paused again, tears were burning in eyes, but he was refusing to let them fall. “I didn’t want this life, Eds. I really didn’t. I couldn’t get out. I’ve been trying to, but every time I try I get sucked right back in. I’ve joined this acting class-”

“Acting class?” Eddie asked, as if that was the surprising thing that Barry had brought up in this conversation, when really he was trying to process everything he was telling him. Barry had started talking so fast that Eddie was having a slight issue processing it all in the moment. 

“Yeah, and I really enjoy it.” 

Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle, rubbing his eye. “I remember you wanted to be a comedian, remember that?”

There something that clicked in Barry’s brain, in fact… he  _ did  _ remember that now. He couldn’t help but smile. 

“Yeah… I remember that…” 

“I think it’s… great that you found a reason to turn your life around,” Eddie started, “but you know that’s like… really fucked up?”

Barry closed his eyes a moment, nodding before opening them again. “Yeah… I know.” 

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip, trying to think of what to say now. 

“An actor, huh?” Barry nodded, looking at him to try to read his face. “I could see that.”

“Really?” Barry’s face lit up. 

“Yeah. Hey, Rich- Barry,” Eddie quickly corrected himself, looking at him. 

“No! Um… you can call me Richie.” 

“Richie, let me ask you something.” Barry nodded, still looking at Eddie. “Do you have any idea what happened to Janice the night she disappeared?” 

“I can’t say anything, Eds. I’m sorry,” he answered, smoothing the band-aids down on his hand. 

“Were you there the night I got shot in the foot?” 

“I…” There was no way Barry could lie his way out of that one, he knew that Eddie knew he was there that night. Besides, he already spilled his life story, and while Eddie seemed to be concerned for Barry, he didn’t seem like he was going to use that information against him. More than anything Eddie just wanted to help him. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Eddie. I’m sorry.” He quickly reached into his pocket, pulling some of the loose money out from his half of the job he was currently working, holding it out to Eddie. “Here.”

“What the fu… no. I’m fine. It’s fine, man.” Honestly? Eddie wasn’t expecting to see that much money loose in someone's pocket. That’s something you keep in a fucking bank. “Just… here.” He pulled out his notebook, flipping to a blank page, clicking his pen before writing something down. “Here’s my number if you need anything,” he said as he tore out the page, handing it to him. “You can talk to me about anything, alright? Thanks for telling me all that, I know it wasn’t easy…” from the driver’s side window Eddie noticed that Mae was taking a cigarette break. “I gotta get back to work, okay? Stay safe, Richie.” 

“You too, Eds.” 


	9. Trashmouth

Eddie waited in the lobby of the precinct until Richie drove away from his spot across the street before heading back inside. Almost like he needed that reassurance that Richie left without any issues, Eddie was hoping that he would make it home alright… Wherever home was for Richie… 

There was so much on Eddie’s mind right now, after hearing what Richie had to say. Just… knowing that he was more or less forced into a life he didn’t want to be apart of was very saddening. While it was sad, Eddie had to tell himself that Richie could’ve tried a little more to get out of that life; he could’ve left without telling anyone since it was apparent that he was allowed to go wherever he wanted, especially since he attended an acting class. The situation was fucked up, but Richie still killed people, he was still a murderer… So why was Eddie having such a hard time coming to terms that he  _ needed  _ to arrest him? 

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Eddie turned around, limping his way through the precinct. A couple of phones started ringing in the office around him, for some reason the sounds were setting Eddie off, suddenly it felt like he was having sensory overload. The officers who were standing around talking and laughing at a normal, reasonable volume now felt like they were all screaming and it was setting Eddie on edge. He needed to get away from this. 

Instead of heading back into his cubicle, Eddie took a quick turn, limping into the conference room where he used the whiteboards for the case he was working on. The pictures of those in the acting class were still pinned up, seeing them felt like a slap in the face. The answer was there the whole time and he was too blind to see it. What was he going to do now? The case was more or less solved… but did he honestly have the heart to arrest Richie? Yeah, he understood that if he didn’t he would be a hypocrite, and if anyone on the force found out he would get into some major trouble… but at the same time… Richie was his best friend that was put into an unfortunate situation. 

As if on autopilot, Eddie began taking the pictures down, deciding that he needed to talk to Richie about all of this if he were going to keep this from coming out. He couldn’t willingly allow Richie to keep doing this job, but if he stopped, actually changed his life around like he wanted to then  _ maybe  _ it would be more bearable to let Richie walk free. Yeah, it felt wrong, it felt horribly wrong, but it was a difficult choice. Letting out a shaky sigh, Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache coming on. 

“Giving up on the case?” Detective Mae asked, leaning against the door frame of the conference room with her arms folded over her chest. 

“What? Oh…” Eddie looked at the pictures he was holding onto. “I dunno…” he admitted, tossing them onto the long table in the center of the room.  _ Everything is right there… you have the evidence…  _ Eddie let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his head. “I can’t… really find anything else about this case. I think it’s time to put it back.” 

“Uhhuh…” Mae said, acting as though she didn’t believe him which set Eddie further on edge, giving her a look. “What, uh… what was that in the car?” 

At first Eddie had no idea what she was talking about, but then it hit him quickly. 

“Were you watching me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Mae shrugged, walking over to the table, picking up the pictures to shuffle through them as if there was a secret message there. “Did it have to do with the case?” She asked, a small smile tugging at her lips but she refused to smile fully, dropping the pictures back down on the table. 

“Yeah,” Eddie lied, “but, it’s not that. I don’t have anything else to go off of this case…” he repeated as if he said it enough times it would become true. 

She couldn’t hide it anymore, Mae finally let her smile shine through. “I know what’s going on here.” 

The sentence was so vague, there was so much shit that Eddie had going on, so much shit that Eddie was hiding that he felt like panicking.  _ No, there was no way she knew about Barry. _ Eddie knitted his eyebrows together, trying to act like he was confused about what she was talking about… Well… he was confused. Eddie literally had no idea what she was going on about or what she could possibly know. 

“Wh-what-what do you mean?” Eddie stuttered, resting his hand on his aching leg, which suddenly felt more painful than usual. He needed more pills. 

“Don’t play dumb, Kaspbrak. You weren’t talking about the case with that guy.” 

“Wh-”

“What’s his name?” 

Eddie paused, trying to put two and two together to see where she was getting at, but he couldn’t be sure. 

“ _ What?” _ Was she implying what Eddie  _ thought  _ she was implying? For fuck’s sake, what was Eddie getting himself into now? 

“I’m not stupid, Eddie.” 

Eddie opened his mouth to naturally say  _ Barry,  _ but that wasn’t his name. “...Richie,” he answered quickly. 

“And how long has that been going on?”

Well, shit. Mae was implying…  _ that.  _ For almost a year, Janice and Mae had been encouraging Eddie to put himself back out there after he broke off his engagement with this woman he’s been seeing when he lived in New York for a short period of time. The relationship had become long distance when Eddie decided to move to LA for a better job opportunity, of course his fiancée didn’t like that, but she was suffocating him, so why not break it off? Eddie wasn’t happy with her, she wasn’t happy with the situation… It seemed like the best option. 

Eddie cleared his throat, his face now had a pink tint to it. “We’ve actually known each other for years, but we’ve just reconnected.” 

* * *

Barry slammed the door of his car a little too hard in the parking lot of the theater that it echoed. Out of pure paranoia, Barry glanced over his shoulder into the street to make sure that nobody had been following him. Well, the only person he had been paranoid about was Eddie, if he wasn’t paranoid before he was paranoid now, especially since he basically spilled everything to him in the car earlier.  _ Now  _ he had every right to come and arrest him, but if Eddie was going to keep his word like he had implied then Barry should be fine. 

He moved towards the building, his mind and heart heavy as he had been thinking about something the entire drive here. He clutched the backpack strap that was over his shoulder, digging his fingernails into it instead of picking at his skin, Eddie told him to stop doing that so he was going to attempt to stop. From behind, Barry could hear a group of other students laughing and talking amongst themselves, something he lowkey wish he had; of course he was acquaintances with most of the people in his class, but not close. Sure, they invited him out sometimes, more so when Barry first joined the class, now it seemed like he would be invited once in a blue moon. While going out with friends once in a while would be fun and get him out of the hotel room, he wasn’t going to force himself into somewhere he wasn’t welcomed. 

Letting out a sigh, Barry went inside, picking at the band-aids on his hands. The dim light shined over his face as he moved past the stage he had become accustomed to rather quickly so he could take his normal seat up in the front. Before sitting down he caught eyes with Sally, giving her a small smile, she returned it but it didn’t feel sincere. Yikes, this is why Barry didn’t interact too much with others. 

There was a lot on Barry’s mind right now; his main issue was his identity. Who was he? Obviously his real name is Richie Tozier, he understood that now, but it was still hard to come to terms with. His childhood was a distant memory, his whole life was picked apart and pieced together with false information from the one man he thought he could’ve trusted, and now this whole thing with Eddie? Barry closed his eyes, letting out a breath to calm himself, to calm his thoughts and focus on the moment like Mr. Cousineau had taught him to do. 

_ “...Barry? Barry.”  _

Barry jerked his head up at the stage where Gene Cousineau was standing, trying to get his attention. He felt the entire class looking at him, like their eyes were burning in the back of his head and he hated the feeling. Barry’s shoulders hunched up, embarrassed that he was zoning out in class  _ again.  _ Gene was more like a father figure to Barry than Fuches ever tried to be to him and Barry hated letting him down. 

“Yeah?”

Gene motioned for him to come up on stage. Out of habit, Barry looked over his shoulder to make sure he was gesturing to him. He swallowed hard, shifting his backpack to the left side of his feet so he could get up from his seat. 

With his heart pounding against his chest, Barry made it up on stage, standing next to Gene, who was holding a script out to him. He paused, looking at the small stack of papers in Mr. Cousineau’s hands. 

“This is the monologue I want you to do for the next class, Barry,” Mr. Cousineau told him, shaking the script a little to encourage Barry to take it from him. 

Knitting his eyebrows together, Barry took the script, the papers feeling rather heavy in his hands. His identity was a major part of anxieties as of late, he wanted to change himself again. Or… Not necessarily  _ change  _ himself, more like going back to the person he was born as. 

“Hey, guys… um…” Barry had started his announcement to the class, instantly regretting it as he had no idea how he wanted to word this or if this was exactly what he wanted. Well, he started, he might as well finish it. “So I’ve decided something.” He had everyone’s attention, he could tell by their confused looks. “I’ve decided that…” He took a deep breath, looking at the script in his hands.  _ Yes, he wanted this, he didn’t want to be Barry anymore…  _ “I’m changing my name.” 

There was some murmuring, which made Barry worried that he made the wrong choice to bring this up. Maybe he should’ve kept living his life as Barry while suffering with this identity. 

“Changing it to what?” Mr. Cousineau asked him, rubbing his chin. 

“Richie Tozier. Or, on stage, Richie Trashmouth.” 

“What’s with the name change?” Sally had asked from her seat, from her tone it was obvious that she wasn’t impressed. 

“I dunno… It feels… right. Better than Barry.” 

Sally opened her mouth to say something else, but Mr. Cousineau cut her off before she could say anything. 

“Alright, Richie Trashmouth,” Richie let out a sigh of relief, he liked how that sounded coming from Mr. Cousineau who always easily accepted him, “we do our monologues next class.” 

The rest of class had ran rather smoothly, certainly a lot better than last time for Richie. He was certainly in the zone now, doing the exercises without his mind wandering and forcing himself into a panic attack. In fact, not once did he think about Fuches, or Eddie, or the hot water he could possibly be in. This is exactly what Richie needed, finally he was able to relax and chill out with a hobby he actually enjoyed. 

Towards the end of the class, Gene was standing up on the stage, giving feedback as he checked the old fashioned watch on his wrist. 

“Well, that’s all I have for you guys. I hope you all have a wonderful night.” Everyone started packing up their belongings and standing up from their seats, so Gene had to call from over them. “Richie? Can I speak to you for a moment?” 

Richie stood up, throwing his backpack over his shoulder before meeting up with Gene who had stepped off the stage. They stepped to the side so the rest of the class could leave.

“I need to ask…” Gene started, gesturing towards Richie’s face, “what’s with the glasses, son?” 

“Oh…” Richie instinctively reached up to touch the side of his glasses to make sure they were still on his face, as he had just gotten used to them so it was like they weren’t even there, “I usually wear contacts, but I don’t have anymore. I need them to see.” 

“Listen,” Gene started as he grabbed Richie’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes, “I’m really proud of you. I know it wasn’t easy to stand up there on stage and tell everyone about your new identity.” Richie nodded, feeling his eyes burning from the tears that were threatening to fall because, for once, he felt like someone understood him and what he was going through. “But, I have to ask… Is there a reason for it?” 

“It’s just… I caught up with a friend from my hometown and seeing him again made me remember a lot of things.” 

“Cleveland?” 

“Actually, no. Derry, Maine.” 

“Never heard of it.” 

Richie chuckled, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. “That’s not a surprise.” 

“Well, I can’t wait to see what Richie Trashmouth brings to us. Have a nice night, Mr. Tozier.” Gene patted his shoulder before heading back down the hall towards his office. 

Richie’s heart and chest felt heavy, but not from anxiety or any negative feelings for once, no, instead it was more like a… overwhelming feeling of happiness. He had a huge smile on his face as he turned to leave the theater. Mr. Cousineau accepted his new identity and that’s all that really mattered to Richie, it felt like he was doing something right for once in his life and wanted to keep this going. Now that he was Richie Tozier that meant he wasn’t going to be doing anymore jobs for Fuches and that was final. As soon as Richie got back to the hotel he was going to take his half of the money, pack his shit up, and leave to find his own place away from Fuches and Hank. Fuck the job. Fuck Fuches. Fuck this. 

The moment Richie stepped outside the building his smile dropped when he saw Sally standing out there, waiting for him with her arms folded over her chest like an upset mother. Richie stopped in his tracks, his hand clutching the backpack strap again, swallowing hard. He felt like he did something wrong, but wasn’t sure what it was. He opened his mouth to speak but Sally started speaking first.

“What the hell was that?” She asked him. 

“W-what was what?” 

“That…  _ Richie  _ thing.” 

Richie glanced around for a moment before looking back to Sally, confused on what that was supposed to mean. “That’s… my name?” 

“And the glasses?” She reached up, touching them which caused Richie to flinch and back up a little bit. “What the fuck’s going on with you?” 

“I just feel like it’s more fitting,” Richie defended himself with a single arm shrug. 

Honestly though? What was the big deal? He was wearing glasses and had a new name. How did that suddenly make it the end of the fucking world? Why was it okay for other people in Richie’s life to do things to make themselves happy but whenever he did something for himself to change his life, to make him happy it was suddenly wrong? It wasn’t fucking fair. 

“I mean…” Sally started, dropping her arms to her side dramatically, “it’s one thing to have a stage name like  _ Barry Block,  _ but why do you need to change your entire name? And why Trashmouth?”

“Oh… that’s what my friends called me back in Maine.” 

Sally rolled her eyes. “Get it together, Barry,” she said before walking away.

Richie took off his glasses, holding the lenses up so he could see through them before attempting to snap them in half, only managing to bend the frames. He was left there alone, confused, and in the middle of yet another identity crisis. 


	10. The Old Times

Back at his and Fuches’ hotel room, Richie was sitting on his fold out bed, drinking heavily with the goal in mind is to get drunk so he could forget about this whole fucking day. It was goddamn awful… First, he accidentally spills his entire life and basically all the crimes he’s ever done, and second, he wanted to change his name. Yeah, that second point shouldn’t have been something Richie would regret, but it only seemed like there was one person in his corner and that was Mr. Cousineau. Richie honestly couldn’t tell if Eddie was supporting him or just trying to pile up enough evidence to get him arrested, but at this point whatever happened to Richie happened. He wasn't going to fight anymore, he was too tired and depressed to do so. Besides, it wasn’t like Fuches was going to help him, not like he could help anyways… 

Richie had his head bowed, his head pounding as he was holding a vodka bottle in his hands that he didn’t even notice Fuches had walked up to him, looking extremely disappointed. Well, what else was new? The real question should be who  _ wasn’t  _ disappointed in him? 

“What the fuck are you doing, Barry?” Fuches demanded, tapping his foot on the carpeted floor. 

“‘y name’s Richie now,” Richie slurred, raising his head so he could look at him, chugging the bottle again. 

“No the fuck it isn’t!” Fuches snapped, snatching the patched up glasses with tape on the bridge from Richie’s face. 

“Give those back!” Richie whined, making no attempt to reach for the glasses, knowing he was getting too tipsy, so if he did he would end up falling off the bed. 

“Not until you drop this Richie business!” 

Richie was silent for a moment, rocking back and forth slightly as he stared at the bottle in his hand trying to think of what he wanted to say to him. There was so much he wanted to say in general, but he had nobody to talk to about anything. Sometimes he wished he could go to therapy, but Richie was sure that any therapist had to report anything he told them to the police or something. He was trapped in his own mind with no way to escape. 

“Fuches… why did you make me change my name?” Richie asked, looking up at the older man with a sad look in his eyes. 

At first, it seemed as though Fuches was going to spill another lie, but it took an entirely different turn of direction. He let out a sigh, taking a seat next to Richie, holding the glasses out to him. 

“Because,” he started, “you were going to have a different life after I took you from Maine, right?” Richie blinked, not understanding what he was getting at, but still nodded in response. “A different life means a different name, right?” 

“I guess…” 

“And now that you’re in this life your name’s Barry now, right?” Richie didn’t say anything, he just stared straight ahead past Fuches like he wasn’t paying attention. Great, he was manipulating him again… not like that wasn’t new, Fuches has been manipulating him since they left Maine. “ _ Right, Barry?”  _ Fuches said through his teeth, as if he was getting irritated with him. 

“‘m still going by Richie…” 

Fuches shook his head, rolling his eyes. “You gotta see Hank tomorrow,  _ Barry.  _ He’s getting impatient that Bell isn’t dead yet.” 

“...Who?”

Fuches groaned, standing up from the bed, confusing Richie about what he did wrong this time. Well, he was just fucking everything up today, wasn’t he? 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” was all Fuches said as he grabbed his jacket from the hook next to the door. 

“Where are you going?” 

“ _ Out.”  _

Richie opened his mouth for him to elaborate, but Fuches was already on his way out, slamming the door behind him. He let out a deep sigh, suddenly feeling more depressed than he’s ever had before. Nothing was going right, his whole identity was being pulled into two different directions; Fuches and Sally were basically telling him that he was Barry and nobody else, while Mr. Cousineau and Eddie were encouraging him to be whoever Richie Tozier was. He smacked himself as hard as he could in the face for no reason other than he was drunk and frustrated. He slammed the bottle of vodka on the end table before grabbing a pillow to muffle his frustrated screams as that was the only way he could think of to release some of his anger. 

He clutched the pillow tight, holding it against himself as he began to cry silently. Every wrong thing that Richie’s ever done was flooding back to him all at once and it drove him mad. The night he had to kill Chris so he wouldn’t go to the police, the person who he had considered to be his best friend; the night he practically lured Janice over to the tree where he had his gun hidden in case he needed to use it and proceeded to kill her and hid her car and body so he wouldn’t get arrested, ultimately destroying Mr. Cousineau’s life. Hell, even all the fights that Richie and Sally had came back to him and made him realize that he couldn’t even hold a relationship or connect with anyone at all, and there was nowhere he felt he could run to. 

As a last resort in his drunken state of mind, Richie wiped the tears from his eyes before reaching over the side of his bed. From underneath the thin, flimsy mattress he pulled out an extra pistol he kept there for emergencies. Richie tucked his legs to his chest, rocking back and forth with the gun still clutched tightly in his hand. He felt lost, scared, alone, and extremely hopeless.

Richie didn’t want to do this anymore. 

It was a struggle since he was so drunk, but Richie managed to stand up from the fold out of bed, swaying slightly as he did. He grabbed the bottle that was still on the nightstand, taking a swing of it when he noticed the piece of paper that had been sitting underneath it. Richie tilted his head to the side, replacing the bottle with the paper that had Eddie’s personal number written neatly over it in pen. Would it be worth it to even call Eddie? Would he even answer? Letting out a sigh, Richie took out his phone from his back pocket, drunkenly dialing the number as he stumbled his way over to the bathroom, as he suddenly felt anxious and needed to puke. 

Richie dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, puking up his guts from the anxiety and all the alcohol he consumed. If he didn’t feel awful before he did now, his stomach and throat burning. He felt like he was going to suffocate from lack of oxygen, not being able to even suck in a little bit of air from the constant puking he was doing. 

Once he was able to regain a bit of control, he wiped the tears from his eyes, hearing someone on the phone that was sitting next to him on the floor. That’s when he remembered that he had called Eddie for… for some reason that he couldn’t remember. 

_ “Richie? Richie, are you okay?”  _ Richie heard Eddie ask him as he pressed the phone to his ear, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth. 

“‘m so ready to kill myself,” Richie slurred into the phone, leaning against the tub that was next to him, still on the floor. Tears were still burning in his eyes, it had been a long time since he actually let out a real, breakdown cry, and Richie felt like it was something he needed, minus the breakdown part. 

Eddie was honestly taken aback, he wasn’t expecting Richie to say something like that. That just… wasn’t something his Richie would ever say… Even though he had told Eddie so much of what happened from the time he left Derry to now, Eddie felt like he would not be able to truly understand what he’s been through to make him feel like this. 

_ “What’s wrong, Richie?”  _

Richie couldn’t help it as he started to breathe heavily, feeling like he was going into a panic attack. He looked at the gun in his hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“What’d you call me?”

_ “Richie. That’s what you wanted me to call you, right? I can call you Bar-”  _

“No! No, no, no… Don’t call me that… I’m Richie.” 

_ “Yeah… you’re Richie.”  _

Eddie was trying to be as careful as possible with what words he chose, maybe it was all his time at work with the training he had for situations like this, or maybe since he knew Richie and knew he wouldn’t say anything like that without a reason that raised some flags. It was extremely obvious that he was distressed, clearly drunk from the way he was slurring his words. Hearing him throw up as soon as Eddie picked up had made him cringed.

_ “Hey, Richie? Do you have… anything that could hurt you?” _ As much as Eddie hated asking that question to anyone, it felt awkward and pushy, but if Richie  _ did  _ have something that could possibly be a harm to him then Eddie needed to know. 

Being as drunk as he was, Richie couldn’t even phantom the idea of lying to Eddie. He was that type of drunk who spilled everything even when he wasn’t prompted, that being the reason he didn’t get too hammered while out in public, especially when out drinking with those from his acting class. Sure, they may take whatever he may have spilled out as him practicing monologue or a script or something, but there was no way Richie was risking it.   
“I have a gun,” he admitted, pressing the side of the weapon to his forehead, feeling the cool steel against his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, rocking back and forth slightly enough for his back to bang into the tub wall. 

He was conflicted, as much as Richie wanted to end his own life, he felt like talking to Eddie was helping him greatly. Like having that comfort that  _ somebody  _ was willing to be there for him was enough to make him rethink all of this… 

“ _ Okay… is it-”  _ Before Eddie could even get his question out, Richie cocked the gun he was holding, hearing it made Eddie panic, his heart now slamming against his chest. “ _ Where are you at, Rich? I don’t want you hurting yourself.”  _

Richie sniffled, rubbing his eyes. “In my hotel room…” he admitted, that’s when it hit him that he’s never actually told anyone where he lived, not even Hank knew where he and Fuches stayed. It never made sense to Richie why they didn’t just get an apartment like a normal person, it would save money if they did that, but if there was ever a reason they both needed to bail quickly the lease couldn’t backtrack to them in any way. 

_ “Your hotel room? Okay, cool, cool… How about this?”  _ Eddie was prepared to do anything to get to Richie, to make sure that he wasn’t going to do anything to hurt himself. He had no idea what was going on with him, but Eddie had an idea and he still didn’t want anything to happen to Richie.  _ “I can come pick you up and we can drive around, get some fresh air. How does that sound?” _

Even though Eddie couldn’t see him through the phone, Richie still nodded as if he could. To be honest, driving around and getting out of the cramped hotel room did actually sound nice. Yeah, Richie was free to basically go wherever he wanted to, but it wasn’t like he really had anywhere to go. The only time he ever left was to go to his acting classes, to get food at the small, cheap restaurant that was more or less right across the street, but that was about it. What a sad, sad life he lived… What would’ve happened if he never left Derry? If he stayed with that group of friends that Eddie reminded him of when showing Richie that photo… Maybe he would’ve gone to college, get a degree in… something. Fuck, Richie couldn’t even remember what his interests were before being forced to leave. What  _ did  _ he want to go to college for? He did remember that it was that time in high school where everyone in their grade kept getting pressured by almost every teacher about what they wanted to do with their lives. 

_ What do you want to do with your life, Richie?  _

_ I dunno, kill people for money. No big deal. Don’t need to go to college for that, right? _

“Please…” Richie finally squeaked, hearing Eddie let out the breath that he had been holding. Apparently Richie had been lost in his thoughts longer than he thought he had, which had made Eddie panic silently. 

_ “No problem. Which hotel and which room? I’ll come get you.”  _

Richie more or less slurred in words together, but it was enough for Eddie to understand which hotel he was in at least. It wasn’t too far from his apartment, about ten minutes, maybe twenty minutes depending on the traffic. 

“Jus… just let me know when you’re here-” 

_ “How about you just stay on the phone with me?”  _ Eddie told him as he was rummaging around his apartment for his keys that he  _ of course  _ couldn’t find at the last goddamn minute. 

Richie didn’t say anything, he wasn’t used to somebody caring so much about him, especially not enough to come to him to make sure he was going to be okay. 

“Okay…” He finally mumbles into the phone.

* * *

Eddie had raced down the flight of stairs of his apartment building, his keys held tightly in his hand, the brass keys were digging into his skin as he held the cell phone up to his ear with his shoulder as he opened the door to the parking lot. He could understand that Richie wasn’t in the mood to talk, but Eddie needed him to keep talking, so he could make sure he was doing okay. Or… at least not going through with anything. This entire situation is delicate and Eddie needed to make sure he was going to make the right choices here.

“Richie?” Eddie asked into the phone, hoping that he was still there and still doing okay. Or, as okay as Richie could be. “What are you doing right now, man?” 

He could hear Richie drop a bottle on a tile floor, the sound was loud, causing Eddie to flinch. As Eddie was waiting for an answer, he put his car into drive, speeding off out of the parking lot and down the road. 

“ _ ‘m not doin’ anything,”  _ Richie more or less whined into the phone, his back still pressed up against the tub wall. He felt as though if he stood up to go back into his bed he would tumble over from how drunk he had gotten. He said he wouldn’t do anything, yet he was still holding the gun in his head, his brain still contemplating whether or not he should just pull the trigger and get this over with. “ _ I swear ‘m fine.”  _

“I trust you… I just need you to keep talking to me, okay?” 

“ _ I don’t have anything to say…”  _ Richie admitted, pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping an arm around his knees, pulling them closer. He chuckled, it wasn’t like someone telling a joke chuckle, it was more like he was having a dark thought.  _ “Would think you’d hear if I shot myself.”  _

“Don’t think like that, you’re going to be okay, alright?” 

It was silent for a good minute or two, the longest moment of silence Eddie’s been through. He had no idea what to say, it was as though all the training that Eddie has done for these exact moments flew out the window. Almost like he wasn’t even thinking like a cop right now but as a concerned friend. 

As Eddie opened his mouth to speak, a faint sob came from the other end of the line. The sound broke his heart, as kids Eddie must’ve only seen Richie cry  _ once,  _ to this day Eddie wasn’t sure what it was about, but he knew that it was something to do with family matters. It sucked, Richie had always seemed like such a happy kid, but from piecing what Eddie could together it seemed like his home life was awful… Sure, his wasn’t the best either, but goddamn… 

“Richie?” 

_ “I’m tired.”  _

“I’m almost there, okay? You gotta hang on. … Richie?” 

Richie took a swing from his alcohol, sniffling before answering. “ _ I’m here…”  _

Eddie turned into the hotel that Richie had been staying at for an undetermined amount of time. Thankfully there was an easy parking spot right up front by the door, Eddie would’ve been pissed off if he had to go around over and over to find a goddamn spot. Road rage was certainly one of his downfalls. 

“I’m coming up, alright? I’m almost there,” he told him as he walked up to the elevator, repeatedly pressing the floor up button, hoping that somehow that would make the elevator doors open faster. As soon as he entered, Richie was trying to tell him something, but all that was coming out was static and everything was cutting due to the lost connection just from stepping inside the elevator. 

Cursing under his breath, Eddie removed the phone from his ear, pressing the fourth floor button, trying to go back to his phone app to call Richie back. No matter how many times he tried calling him back it either didn’t go through, or it rang a couple of times before going straight to voicemail, which made Eddie believe that Richie was declining his calls. Fuck. 

The moment the elevator stopped, Eddie slipped out the doors as they were still sliding open. He paused for a moment, getting a feel for how the room numbers were laid out. Since Richie’s room was twelve, it should theoretically be in the center of the hallway. The entire time he was looking at each door to check for door numbers he was trying to call Richie again, just to be sure he was doing okay, even though it’s been less than a minute since the call dropped. 

Once he found Richie’s room, he couldn’t help but immediately try the doorknob to see if it would be, hopefully, unlocked…. But it wasn’t… Fuck, fuck, fuck… Eddie started pounding on the door, hoping that he was able to get Richie’s attention. Hoping that he didn’t do anything in that short time span. It only took a few seconds to put the gun to his head and pull the trigger. Eddie pressed his ear against the door, trying to determine if there was any movement coming from inside, but there wasn’t. Goddammit. 

“Richie!” Eddie called, pressing his hands against the door. Normally he’d be concerned with people staying in the rooms around them, he would hate to disturb them, but this was important. “Richie, I swear to god, you better open this door or I’ll kick it down!” 

Pressing his ear against the door again, this time, thankfully, Eddie could hear small footsteps coming towards the door. Oh, thank god. 

Two locks from the otherside became undone, Richie opened the door, just standing there, staring at Eddie as he was swaying slightly side to side due to the alcohol. In fact, Eddie was sure if it weren’t for Richie holding onto the doorknob he would’ve fallen over. Richie’s eyes were red and puffy, tear stains down his cheeks and the gun still in his hand. Eddie was extremely concerned, as he was, hearing him over the phone and seeing him in person were two heavily different things. 

“Put the gun down, Rich,” Eddie said in a low voice, so nobody could hear him, yet it was in a cautious tone. 

Richie didn’t say anything, in fact, he turned around, leaving the door opened as he shuffled his feet through the carpet flooring on his way back to his fold out bed. Eddie let himself in, closing and locking the door behind him out of habit. Richie tossed his gun down on the bed before taking a seat, burying his face in his hands, rocking back and forth. He began sobbing again, again, seeing this in person was way worse than hearing it over the phone… 

“Richie… hey…” Eddie started, moving over to him. 

It was as though Richie had forgotten that Eddie was even there, that he had been on the phone with him as he was sitting on the bathroom floor, because once he heard his voice the tears instantly stopped, as though nobody was allowed to see him cry. He moved his hands away from his face, wiping the tears away. When he noticed Eddie was starting to get too close Richie instantly stood up, causing Eddie to jump, moving back as not to scare him or making him feel uncomfortable. 

Richie didn’t go very far, he moved over to the mirror that was hanging up horizontal to a dresser. All he did was stand there in silence, staring at his own reflection. Everything Richie’s ever done was flashing through his eyes; killing Chris, killing Janice, the things he did while in the Marine, his time in the hospital… Why the fuck couldn’t he have a normal life like everyone else? 

Eddie wasn’t sure what to do now… He felt like he should go comfort Richie, but he was worried about what was going through his mind right now, he didn’t want to risk startling him. 

“Richie-” 

Before Eddie could even get this sentence thought out, Richie’s face scrunched up in frustration before sending his fist against the mirror as hard as he could. Glass shards flew everywhere, startling Eddie, making it hard to wrap his head around what just happened. Blood droplets dropped to the floor, running down Richie’s arm with shards of glass stuck in his skin. Richie was numb, he couldn’t even register what he had done, not only was he emotionally numb, but his hand and arm became numb from the shock. The entire time he didn’t stop looking at himself now through the cracked mirror. His breathing became heavy, face twisting up like he wanted to cry, once he felt hands on his shoulders he tried his best to compose himself to show that nothing was wrong when that obviously was a lie. 

“Breathe,” Eddie told him as he moved Richie away from the broken mirror to sit back down on the fold out mattress, “you gotta breathe.” It was getting to the point where it sounded as though Richie was about to start hyperventilating.

Richie let out a shaky breath, burying his face in his hands as he was trying to gather his thoughts. He was drunk, the world around him was spinning and he wasn’t completely sure what was going on. When he looked up at Eddie again there was blood smeared across his face, causing the shorter man to cringe. 

“Why’d you come here, Eds?” Richie asked in a still shaky voice, almost gasping for air as he was almost forgetting to breathe. 

Was he serious? 

“I thought you were gonna fuckin’ kill yourself!” Eddie said a little too loudly, gesturing towards Richie’s bloodied up hand, “now I gotta take you to the hospital.”

“No hospitals!” Richie said quickly, panicking as he stood up quickly, almost stumbling over. Eddie had to grab him so he wouldn’t topple over. 

“Okay, okay… no hospitals…” Eddie said carefully, not sure why he was so against it, but whatever… “Do you have a first aid kit?” Richie shook his head, holding his injured hand close to his chest. “Okay, um… I have one at home. Lets, uh…” Eddie paused, looking around to find something he could use to cover up Richie’s hand until they got him patched up. He grabbed a towel that was sitting on the dresser. “Let's get this wrapped up.” 

Richie plopped back down on the fold out mattress, too anxious to say anything, instead he held out his hand to Eddie, who knelt down in front of him. Richie refused to look at him as he felt the towel get tightly wrapped around his hand, causing him to flinch. Some of the glass get pushed deeper in his skin. He whimpered in pain, snatching his hand away after the towel was secured in place. 

“Let’s go, Richie.” He wrapped an arm around Richie’s shoulders, helping him stand up so he wouldn’t stumble over when trying to get up. Richie tried to grab the gun that was still on the bed, bringing it for God knows why… Eddie moved him along so he couldn’t grab it, there was no reason he needed to bring it along. “You don’t need that.” 

“But-” 

“C’mon.” 

Eddie guided Richie out of the hotel room, which was a big help on Richie’s end since he would be stumbling without him. Richie was trying so hard to focus on something so he wouldn’t end up throwing up all over the carpeted floor. Surely the hotel wouldn’t appreciate that. Especially with all the possible complaints that were against him and Fuches for yelling at each other all the time, ruining the carpet would most likely get them kicked out for sure. 

Getting Richie to Eddie’s car was surprisingly easy, Eddie honestly was expecting for him to start fighting with him and to refuse to leave, but the whole trip to the car he was silent. Eddie opened the passenger side door for Richie, he slid in while holding his injured hand close to his chest. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, so not only was Richie starting to feel extreme pain in his hand, he was starting to feel exhausted both mentally and physically. Richie had no idea what he was doing, he had his head leaning against the passenger window, staring out of it as Eddie got into the driver's seat. 

Snapping out of his thoughts, Richie noticed that they had begun to drive, pulling out of the parking lot. The movement and bumpiness of the road was starting to make Richie feel sick, he felt like he wanted to puke again, but he would have to wait until they stop. To try to help the car sickness, Richie closed his eyes tight, but it wasn’t doing much to help. 

“Eddie?” Richie asked suddenly, startling Eddie who already had a tight grip on the steering wheel. 

“Hm?” 

Richie opened his eyes again, they were now wet as he kept on looking outside. “Am I a bad person?”

“I think…” Eddie paused, he needed to choose his words carefully while also wanting to say how he really felt, “you were just a kid who got caught up in some bad things.” 

Richie lifted his head up from the window, glancing over at Eddie, who had his eyes still locked onto the road. 

“I mean…” Eddie continued again, feeling Richie’s eyes on him, “you  _ want  _ to walk away, right?” From the corner of his eye he could see Richie nod in agreement. “Well, that’s good. I think you changing your name is a great start. Put all of that behind you.” 

“I’m really trying to, Eds. It’s hard, I keep getting pulled back into it.” Richie paused, was he saying too much again? Usually he kept to himself, but around Eddie… it was almost like he forgot how to filter himself. “You’re not gonna arrest me for this, are you?” 

Eddie let out a sigh, which made Richie silently panic. He truly felt as though these were going to be his last few moments of freedom. Eddie knew that he should arrest him, he’s known that since they first talked in the car across the street of the precinct, but there was a mental block preventing him to do so. 

“As long as you don’t give me a reason to, alright?” 

The rest of the short drive was silent, they didn’t have anything to say to each other. It was the same back and forth. Richie felt overly paranoid, now he didn’t feel like speaking to Eddie about anything. He shook his head, leaning forward in his seat with his face buried in his hands again. Richie was feeling so sick, the anxiety and paranoia was certainly not helping mixed in with the alcohol. 

Everything around Richie was a blur, from what he could remember he was sitting in the car with Eddie with no sense of time, now he was sitting on a couch in an unfamiliar place. The lights were bright, making Richie’s already pounding head worse. Fuck. Everything was moving both too fast yet slow at the same time. Yeah, Richie would never be drinking this much ever again. 

“Eddie?” Richie called out, looking at his wrapped up hand, he couldn’t tell if blood was soaking through or if it was old blood. Either way, it made him concerned about how injured his hand actually was. 

“I’m right here,” Eddie said as he came out of the bathroom from across the room, holding a first aid kit in his hand as he made his way back over to Richie. “It’s alright.” 

“What if we leave?” Richie blurted out as Eddie set the first aid kit on the coffee table, he could see Eddie’s confused face as he opened up the box and started to go through it. 

“Leave?” He wondered, taking out a couple of things that Richie couldn’t make out. 

“Yeah, you and me. We leave LA and never come back.” 

Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle as he took a seat next to Richie on the couch. “Why would I need to leave?” He asked, taking Richie’s hand and removing the towel. Thankfully the majority of the bleeding had stopped, it didn’t look like he would need stitches, so that was a good thing. 

Richie wasn’t sure what to say, hell, he had no idea why he said that. It wasn’t like they knew each other that well, or… at least anymore. There was no way Eddie would drop his entire life to leave with Richie, that would’ve been stupid. Fuck, why was Richie so stupid? 

“Um…” Richie said, watching Eddie take a small alcohol pad, wiping down the small pair of tweezers in his hand. “I dunno, man.” 

“You’d want me to come with you?” Eddie asked, focusing on Richie’s hand as he began to pull out the small shards of glass that remained. 

Richie flinched every time Eddie dug around in his skin. “Kinda… is that weird?” 

Eddie shook his head. “You have your class here, Richie. You should stay.” 

“But… a guy… wants me to kill someone because he thinks he’s a rat. I don’t wanna do it.” 

“Then don’t do it.” Eddie wiped down Richie’s entire hand with a couple of alcohol pads to clean the wounds and clean up the blood. “You have a choice, y’know?” 

“I’m kinda on thin ice with my uncle right now.” 

“Oh well.” 

Richie couldn’t help but chuckle as Eddie put gauze pads on his hand. “I missed you Eddie Spaghetti.” 

Eddie quickly looked up at him, remembering that stupid fucking nickname. It was clear that some of Richie’s memories were coming back to him and that was great. Maybe that would give him the extra push to leave this life behind for good. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Richie couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “I missed you too.” He finished wrapping up Richie’s hand with a self adhesive bandage down to his wrist. “You’re staying here tonight,” Eddie added as he stood up to put away the first aid kit. 

That caught Richie off guard, he wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting for Eddie to patch him up then drive him back home. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t want you hurting yourself.” 

“I won’t, I-” 

“You’re staying.”


End file.
